Redemption
by Coral in the moon
Summary: Sequel to AkashaTheKitty's "Master". 11 years after the war, Hermione is living in London with her son - whom a hooded man takes an interest in. DMHG.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's Master. Absolutely freaking _awesome _story, go read it (****/s/3789532/1/Master****) or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story. The story is going to be as clean as I can make it and that includes adult themes and swearing. **

**I don't own the previous plot or the characters Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger and the entire wizarding world etc, you get the idea. I occasionally quote from Master. Oh, and I borrowed a little mirror with permission from Mazakai, the author of the other Master sequel (Heir). I own… you'll have to wait for later chapters to find that out. I'm not going to ask you to read and review, since if you like the story you'll do that and if you don't, well, if I fill the rest of the page with "PLEASE R&R!!" you won't do it anyway. Of course, reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated. X) Enjoy!**

* * *

He missed her. He missed her badly.

He wasn't supposed to.

Merlin, he wasn't even supposed to have her around in the first place. He should have given her straight to the Dark Lord. It would have restored his family's credit; the Malfoys had fallen out of favour in recent times. But he hadn't. _She was mine to save._

Having her in his villa had been exquisite torture. Perhaps it was just as well he had made her leave when he did. If she had stayed on any longer, he wouldn't have been answerable for his behaviour. Even before she had left, he'd lost control for one blessed time. One undeserved taste of paradise_._

He was grateful she'd gone. He knew all too well that her hatred for him was the only thing that held him back. That day… it had proved it. _She did understand some of it. _It seemed that something had changed between them. And he couldn't risk a change in their relationship, because it would mean both their lives would be in danger.

He wasn't willing to risk her life. _She was mine to save._

And perhaps, by saving her, he could save a little piece of himself.

After she'd left, the villa had been empty, empty and cold and dead. He'd hoped that maybe he'd become too used to having other people around him constantly. He bought another slave to replace that Elvira girl, but she had been terrified of him. At least she eventually managed to stop flinching every time they unexpectedly found themselves in the same room.

Every now and then, he had to return for another party, another sick ritual that he had to go through to prove that he enjoyed their twisted idea of entertainment. He saw her every time he stepped into the room – lying on the table, eyes huge with a curious intermingling of terror and disgust; the tears trickling down when he… when he did what he had to do; the dead expression that was somehow both easier and harder to deal with; horror blanching her face when she was told that he would be her new master…

There were times when he wondered if he were going mad.

It became harder and harder to deal with what he had to see and do. When it finally became too much, he went back to the villa and got drunk. In his moment of weakness, he succumbed to what he had been fighting against ever since she left.

He went to her room. What had been her room.

He had given strict orders that it was to remain untouched. He hadn't been inside since she'd left. It looked as though she had just stepped out and would return at any moment. A robe of hers was hanging on the back of the chair at her dressing table – a robe that he remembered clearly. She had been wearing it the day before she left, they had-

He didn't finish his thought.

Swaying slightly, he walked around the room, his hand running lightly along the cupboard, the dressing table, anything she might have touched. He could have sworn her scent still lingered in the room, faint and tantalising.

When he reached the mirror hanging above the dressing table, he stopped. His reflection stared back at him with haunted eyes. He whispered, "_Revelio_."

The image of a woman with brown eyes and bushy hair swam to the surface. She was brushing her hair in front of a mirror – the very mirror he was standing in front of. She was frowning, her thoughts obviously elsewhere.

He didn't know how long he stood there just staring at her, his face expressionless. He knew it was just a ghost, an echo of the past, but he didn't care; he needed it. He _needed _it.

After that night, he couldn't resist anymore. The Dark Lord had need of him – at least, he said so. He sometimes wondered if he was chosen particularly for the worse jobs, just to test if he was truly as indifferent to others' suffering as befitted a true Death Eater. When he was sick, sick to his stomach, he would return to her room. It didn't matter if she was laughing, frowning or crying; she was a reminder that there were better things in this world.

It took him a while to notice that her image became fainter and fainter as time wore on. He knew it would happen, but he didn't expect it so quickly. He hoped that by the time it completely disappeared, he would have become immune to whatever filthy, inhumane jobs he had to do. He remembered what he had once told her. _Don't think of her as human, and _don't _allow yourself to feel pity. _It had once worked for him, but her response had completely destroyed it. _No pity? Then what makes _me _human?_

_It is the way of things. It is the only way we – I – can survive. It is the only way I can go on._

But she would never understand that. Would she?

* * *

Time passed, and the war began to seem as though it had no ending. At least the jobs he was chosen for became no worse – perhaps because they _couldn't_ get worse. There were occasions where he was ordered to get rid of a bunch of Muggles because their houses were wanted for headquarters of a new branch of Death Eaters. Whenever he was working alone, he did his best to spirit them away to a place far away. Each time he succeeded, he felt a little more alive, a little more human – a feeling that would last until the next outrage he was forced to commit. But the occasions were few and far between. He only saved them if he was certain he could get away with it. He did not have the strength or the courage to go against the Dark Lord_. But this I can do._

He had yet another reason for his surreptitious role as a saviour of Muggles aside from saving his own humanity. Despite himself, he caught himself wondering if she knew, would she think better of him? Stop hating him? Forgive him? Lo-

Always, at that point, he would crush the thought ruthlessly.

One dark day, he was summoned. They had caught one of the Weasleys.

It was one of the older ones. What was his name – Frank or Francis or perhaps the other one, he couldn't remember; one of the Weasley twins, anyway. Famous for their practical jokes – he hadn't forgotten the day they flew out of Hogwarts with Umbridge screaming impotent threats at them. Whoever it was didn't look half as happy now. His face was bruised and his nose was clearly broken, but the look he shot at him was sharp with hatred.

"You filthy bas-" He was cut off by a blow to his stomach from Bates, and he doubled up, gasping for breath.

"For your own sake, Weasley, I would suggest you not insult anyone in this room," he said lazily, the indifference in his voice as clear as he could make it.

Weasley managed to spit out, "Like it matters to you." Another casual blow knocked him to the floor.

Bellatrix was watching, her face alight with savage delight. "This isn't Hogwarts anymore, boy. You'd better give us what we want. Dumbledore's not around to save you…"

The Dark Lord held up a hand and she fell silent instantly. His high, cold voice cut across the heavy breathing of the man lying on the floor. "This is your last chance. Will you reveal Potter's whereabouts?"

"Burn in hell," he whispered.

"Draco."

He turned. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Torture him. If he does not disclose Potter's location within the next few hours, kill him."

There was nothing he could do. Nothing.

"Yes, my Lord. With pleasure."

And it began.

It seemed like the worst thing he had ever done, even including what he'd had to do during the parties. Perhaps it was because he knew the man he was torturing. But he couldn't have a moment of pity; couldn't even show any emotion because his master was sitting there, watching coldly as Fred Weasley writhed and screamed under his wand.

Weasley didn't say anything – anything of use, that is. He said plenty, but it only earned him more punishment. Not a word about Potter crossed his lips.

Finally, at long last Voldemort rose. He looked down coldly at the man gasping on the floor. "You have wasted Lord Voldemort's time, Weasley." He turned to leave the room. "Kill him." The Dark Lord swept from the room, but others remained behind.

_There is nothing I can do. _He saw Weasley's eyes grow wide even as he raised his wand. As the words left his mouth, he watched those same eyes go blank and felt another little part of his soul dissolve into nothingness.

That night, he went to her room again and locked the door behind him, just as he had many times before. But something was different this time. He took another long draught out of the wine glass he held and whispered the spell.

Nothing happened.

He repeated it, this time more carefully. Perhaps he had slurred – the wine was rather stronger than what he was used to.

Still nothing.

He shouted it.

No image appeared; no flash of long hair or soft brown eyes, no sight of her that he so desperately needed.

He remained motionless for a second. Suddenly, without warning, he raised his fist and slammed it into the mirror.

He stood there in silence, surrounded by broken glass. He looked down at his hand as though it belonged to someone else and saw that it was bleeding.

He hadn't felt the pain.

The rest of the night was spent in her room. By morning, the mirror was intact once more. He retrieved his wand from the dressing table where it had been lying, unused, and left the room, locking it behind him.

It would not be entered again. It held nothing for him.

* * *

Months later, the war abruptly ended; three years to the day that he had last seen her. Potter had finally succeeded. Voldemort was dead, Bates was imprisoned, and he was on trial.

He didn't really care what his sentence was; he deserved it anyway. Besides, the Dementors couldn't do anything to him. His worst memories tormented him all the time already.

On the day of his trial, he sat there unemotionally as they pronounced him guilty and waited for the guards to take him away. He had just stood up when someone burst into the courtroom.

"What is the meaning of this?" One of the jurors stood up, outrage evident in his expression.

"Sir, my name is Finnigan, Sean Finnigan, and I've just been told by my Muggle neighbour that Malfoy saved his life."

"_What_?"

"He saw the _Daily Prophet _I threw out, the issue with Malfoy's face on the cover and he recognised it. He says that Malfoy Disapparated him and his family to somewhere in northern Germany where they found a whole community of other Muggles that Malfoy had saved."

"Where is he?"

"Outside, I brought him here, thinking that you might want to question him more closely. He's ready to swear to it."

"Go and get him immediately, man! Be quick about it!"

As Finnigan disappeared out the door, every eye in the courtroom was fixed on him. He was as emotionless as ever.

"Malfoy, why on earth didn't you mention this?"

"You," he said, "didn't ask. Your Honour," he added as an afterthought, careful insolence in every syllable and had the satisfaction of seeing an angry flush creep over the juror's face.

A flurry of activity followed. The Muggle entered, looking frightened but determined. He vaguely recognised him as one he had saved close to the end of the war. His trial was postponed until the man's account could be confirmed.

Days later, he was let free, the spokesman's words echoing in his ears. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you have not said one word in your defence since you stepped into this courtroom; yet the jury has decided to release you. There was a personal risk, yet you chose to save people where you could. Although some doubt your motives, the majority has chosen to give you the benefit of the doubt – that you were coerced into becoming a Death Eater and committing the atrocities that you were earlier found guilty of."

He walked out of the courtroom a free man. Free, but with no one besides him and no idea of what to do with his life. Yes, he was free; but freedom meant nothing to him – not now, when there was no chance of her returning to him. Underneath his hood, unseen by anyone, his lips twisted into a bitter smile. There had never been a chance, had there?

His parents were dead, killed in the final battle at Hogwarts. Nobody knew or cared what he did. He spent three years working as a Dragon Keeper, just to give himself something to do. Then he got tired of it and drifted around for the next five years. He didn't get another job; he had enough to live on for a few lifetimes and more. Neither did he look for her. By now, she would have reconstructed her life, probably centred on her son. She didn't need him turning up and throwing it back into disarray.

There was a second reason, but he refused to acknowledge it.

He might have spent the rest of his life in the same aimless manner if something hadn't happened… if he hadn't met somebody.

He was sitting in one of the smaller teashops on the outskirts of Diagon Alley, aloof and anonymous as was his custom. At that exact moment, he was brooding over his tea as he relived the past. Sudden childish laughter caught his attention and he glanced up to see a blond boy and a slightly younger dark haired one playing in the playground across the street.

The sight hit him like a physical blow to the stomach and he couldn't breathe for a moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's "Master". Absolutely awesome story, go read it (****/s/3789532/1/Master****) or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story. I don't own the previous plot or the characters Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger and the entire wizarding world etc. I occasionally quote from "Master". Enjoy! (Reviews are appreciated. The little button down there calls.)**

* * *

He knew instantly who they were. The dark headed one could be no other than the son of the famous hero, the darling of the wizarding world Harry James Potter, so clear was the resemblance. And the other… the other also favoured his father strongly. Too strongly.

A small, mirthless laugh almost escaped him. He could see the irony of it all. While their fathers had not been each other's greatest enemy, they had come close. And yet their sons were apparently best friends.

Their sons. _His_ son. Who was only a street away from him.

He found his hand shaking and carefully lowered his cup back onto the table.

Throwing a Sickle down on the table, he left the shop and stepped into a side alley, whispering a spell once he was out of sight. Nobody saw him leave the alley. At least he had learnt something useful from the Dark Lord.

Now invisible, he crossed the road and stood near the playground, watching them hungrily.

"Halen, are they ever coming to pick us up? They _said_ they'd be here soon!"

"You know how they get when they go shopping. Hey, James, watch this!" He was on the swing, and as he spoke, the swing reached its peak and he let go, seeming to fly momentarily. He landed lightly, his grey eyes alight with laughter and pleasure.

_He's like me, yet not like me._

"_Halen_, did I or did I not tell you not to do that?"

A guilty expression on his face, the boy turned in the direction that the voice had come from.

He froze as he heard the feminine voice that he remembered so well. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned to face its source.

Two women were hurrying up the street towards the playground. He recognised them. One was red headed. _The Weaslette_. And the other… the other was one whose face he knew as well as he knew his own. She hadn't changed much since the last time he had seen her. Although her hair had been tamed somewhat, it was still long and brown and her eyes were as bright as ever.

Shock rooted him to the spot. Years and years, he had both longed for and feared a meeting with her. He had spent hours, weeks, months – yes, even years – wondering if they had survived, how she was living, where she was living, who she surrounded herself with; and he had unexpectedly gotten all the answers within a few minutes. He vaguely noticed that the shaking had spread to his entire body and was glad of his invisibility.

"How many times have I told you not to do that? One day you're going to make a mistake and break a bone."

"Aw, Mum, I've never been hurt playing around before." The boy was half contrite and half defiant.

His mother wasn't paying attention to him. "And setting a bad example for James! You just keep it up, young man.

"But it's so much fun…"

"There'll be time enough for that when you're older and going to Hogwarts."

A sparkle of anticipation made his eyes glow. "Isn't the letter supposed to come soon?"

"Not quite, dear. The letters are sent out in… July, isn't it, Ginny?" she called to the other woman, who was wrapping a scarf around her own son.

"I think so; somewhere around mid July, at least. There's still months to go, Halen."

"_I _want to go to Hogwarts too, Mum! Can't you ask them to let me in early?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, James. There, Halen, see what you've done?"

He wrinkled his nose. "It's not my fault, Aunt Ginny!"

"That's a matter of opinion," his mother muttered under her breath. "Come on, Elvira's going to be furious if we're late for dinner."

"That definitely is your fault, Mum."

"You are entirely too smart for your own good, Halen Drew Granger."

They disappeared down the street and he was left standing at the side of the playground, staring after them with a strange feeling tearing at him inside.

* * *

That night, he couldn't sleep.

_Halen Drew Granger. My son. Halen Drew Granger. He looks just like me. Merlin, I never dreamed when I said that that he would really have blond hair and grey eyes. I thought he'd look at least a bit more like her._

_She's alive and well. They're happy._

_My son. And her._

_They don't need me messing up their lives. They're happy as it is. But…Merlin, I want to see them again. Surely it can't hurt them if they don't know who I am?_

The next day found him back at the teashop. They weren't there that day, nor the next. After a week, he was kicking himself for not following them. After two, he was ready to blow the place apart, consequences be damned. But he held himself back. It was not the Malfoy way, and it was not his.

Finally, the two boys did come back with another boy and girl. The second boy looked to be another Potter while the girl – _Merlin, surely not?_ She had flaming red hair and brown eyes. He couldn't be sure from across the street, but they looked remarkably similar to the eyes of the woman who had haunted him for the past decade and more.

Fool. You never thought she might be married.

He watched them playing, the pain inside him growing stronger with the realisation that he had hoped that perhaps, just perhaps, he still had a chance.

Eventually, he saw Ginny Weasley – no, Ginny Potter – coming up the street. "James, Albus, we've got to go back. Your father will be home soon and I haven't started dinner."

The two children groaned in unison, and she shushed them. "Halen, hasn't your mother come yet?"

"Nope. Bet she's still looking for a matching teapot. Crookshanks the Second broke ours last week."

"I'd hoped she'd be here already. Never mind, come along. I'll take you home."

"But Mum will wonder where I am. I'll stay here and wait for her. She doesn't like to go home alone, anyway," Halen said.

Ginny frowned. "I don't know about that. You're still young to be staying out by yourself."

"Aunt Ginny! I'm _ten_!"

She laughed at the outrage in his voice. "All right then, but you stay right here. Don't go off with anybody. Rose, you'll have to come with me. Tell your mother for me, Halen, won't you?"

"Course I will."

Amid a chorus of byes, the four of them left – _leaving his son alone in the playground._

He seized the chance and crossed the street.

Halen was on the swing again. He walked towards him, making sure his hood was pulled down enough to keep his face in shadow. He had to clear his throat before he could force the words out. "Hello, boy."

The boy jerked in surprise. Apparently he hadn't heard him coming. "Oh. Hello, mister."

"Do you come here often?"

"Whenever my mum has shopping to do."

"Isn't it inconvenient?" Seeing the look of incomprehension on the face so like his own, he clarified, "Isn't it troublesome? Do you have to travel for very long?"

"Oh, no, we live quite close by."

"Your name is Halen?"

"Yes, sir."

"And your mother's name is Hermione Granger?"

"Yes, sir." The boy's head was cocked to one side, clearly wondering why this stranger was asking about him.

"I see." Merlin, but he had so many questions to ask him.

"Sorry, mister, but do you know us?"

Underneath his hood, his mouth twitched into a wry smile. "I knew your mother a long time ago."

"Really?" Halen asked.

"Bushy brown hair, brown eyes, smartest witch of her year, Gryffindor prefect, Harry Potter's friend, am I right?"

"Yeah, that's my mum. She's coming to pick me up soon. If you hang around a while longer, you can talk to her."

"I think I'd better not. We had a… a quarrel some time ago."

"Oh-hh." Clearly, the boy was dying to know the whys and wherefores, but he could hardly explain it to him. Looking down into the boy's face, he realised where the resemblance to his mother was. Although Halen had his features, his character was his mother's. _His_ face had never worn such an open, happy expression. A surge of emotion suddenly raced through him – an unusual occurrence, to say the least. Malfoys were not emotional.

When had she made him so?

"Would you like an ice cream?" he asked abruptly. He wanted more time with the boy, and he wanted to make it up to him. He had grown up without a father – or had he? Perhaps Weasley filled the role well enough.

"Mum always says not to go off with a stranger."

A reluctant smile again tugged at the corner of his lips at the familiar phrase. "It's just down the street. Haven't you ever been to Fortescue's?"

"Yes, but…" He hesitated, clearly torn between the longing for an ice cream and the necessity of staying right where he was supposed to.

"You're worried what will happen if your mother can't find you?"

"Well, ye-es," he said. "And I'm not sure if I'm supposed to go with you," he confessed frankly.

"Tell you what, do you know the shopkeeper of…" he turned and glanced at the name of the shop opposite, "the Magic of Tea?"

Halen nodded.

"Why don't you go in there and tell him that you're going to the Ice Cream Parlour with me? And ask him to tell your mother when he sees her coming. Then if I'm a kidnapper, your mother will know where to find me."

Halen looked at him doubtfully. "But what if you run away?"

"Your mother is one smart witch. She was the top student for six years running. I would think she'd be able to track me down."

His face brightened. "Yeah, that's right. I'll tell him." Halen started across the street but turned back, apparently remembering something. "When he asks who I'm going with, what should I say?"

He didn't answer for a moment. Then, "He knows who I am. Just point to me."

Halen cocked his head, evidently curious. "Won't you tell me your name?"

"You can call me…" Merlin, what was he supposed to say? "Call me mister."

He looked mildly disappointed. "Okay."

The boy turned and ran across the road. Within a few moments he was back, looking up expectantly into his face. "Can we go now, Mister? Maybe if we go quickly we can be back before my mum finds out."

"Yes, let's go," he said. As they began to walk up the street towards the parlour, he said, "Tell me about yourself."

"I'm ten and a bit years old, and I'm going to be in Hogwarts soon. I can't wait, mister! Did you go to Hogwarts?"

The childish enthusiasm brought a smile to his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled three times in a day. "Yes, I did go to Hogwarts," he said. "I think you'll like it there."

"Are there really a lot of ghosts?"

"Yes."

"And trick staircases?"

"Oh yes."

"And a crazy knight called Sir Caddiegen?"

"Cadogan, I think his name is. Crazy as a Gaunt."

"Wow. I can't wait!" Halen was very nearly bouncing up and down with excitement. "Teddy Lupin told us about Hogwarts and he said that there was even a giant squid in the lake! Teddy says that-"

He didn't want to hear about the son of Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin, whose death he had witnessed. He interrupted, "You're not telling me about yourself, though."

"But there isn't much to tell," Halen said mournfully. "I want to talk about Hogwarts."

"Have you always lived in London?"

"I think so. Mum once said she used to live somewhere else, but I don't know if I was born yet."

"Do you play with the Potters' children often?"

"How did you know? Do you know Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny too?"

"I've known them for a long time."

"Well, I sleep over at their house sometimes, but they don't sleep over 'cause they're too young," Halen said. "James is fun, even if he's only six. Albus can be annoying sometimes, but he's a little brother. Aren't little brothers supposed to be annoying?"

"I… I suppose most people think so."

"I play with them a lot. Teddy Lupin used to play with us too, until he turned eleven and went to Hogwarts. He says it's a lot of fun."

"Does your mother - does she have a job? Go out a lot?"

"She works in the Ministry of Magic, but only part time 'cause she says she wants to be around for me."

Halen chattered all the way to Fortescue's, and he managed to learn something about his and her life, despite the inevitable drift of the conversation to Hogwarts. Mum said that when he was born, the war hadn't ended yet and she hadn't dared to go to the hospital. Aunt Elvira had helped her and cleaned him up after he was born. Aunty had stayed with them since forever – she had always been around, until she had gotten news that her family was still alive and left to live with them in America. She was back right now for a visit, but she would be going back soon. He didn't remember living anywhere else besides the house in Raven Drive. Aunty's job helped to pay the bills, and after a while, once the war had ended and Mum wasn't in danger because she was Muggleborn, she had gotten a job too. He was about two and a half when the war ended and Uncle Harry had gotten married to Aunt Ginny. They lived pretty close to each other, so he got to play with the Potters a lot. They had another little girl – Lily – who had red hair, _really _red hair. Mum had laughed when she was born and said between Uncle Harry's mother and the entire Weasley clan there was bound to be one at least one Potter with red hair...

He was listening hungrily to the trivial details, though nobody would ever have been able to tell it from his face, which was hidden in any case.

"…and Mister, Mum says we should never stare at anybody because they are different. Uncle George doesn't like being stared at and he's tired of people asking him what happened, so he wears his hair long to hide it. Is that why you wear a hood?"

"I…" It would have been easier to just say yes, but he didn't want to lie to the little boy who was looking so trustingly at him. "No, it's not that. I prefer that people don't see my face, that's all."

"Oh. Anyway that's why I try not to stare at Lily, but her hair is _so _red I can't help it sometimes."

"Is Lily the girl who was with you earlier?" _Say yes. Please say yes._

"No, that was Rose. She's only six."

He had to swallow before he asked the next question. "Is Rose your sister?"

Halen shrugged. "Sort of. I have a lot of them. I mean, not a lot of sisters, but a lot of little kids who are kind of like my younger sisters and brothers."

So it's true, then. She did marry Weasley. The pain he felt was surprising in its intensity. _I should have known. I should have expected it, fool that I am._

"…annoying, really. They want to play with us but they always fall down and I get scolded. Mister, do you think that's fair? I mean, it's- oh, no."

He wasn't really listening to the boy anymore, but the sudden change in tone caught his attention and he glanced at him, then followed the direction of his gaze. Halen was looking out of the shop window at a brunette woman striding up the street with her wand out, looking worried and furious at the same time.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's "Master". Absolutely awesome story, go read it (**_**/s/3789532/1/Master**_**) or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story. I don't own the previous plot or the characters Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger and the entire wizarding world etc, you get the idea. I occasionally quote from "Master". Cheers! Constructive criticism and suggestions welcomed.**

**Sorry for the late update - this chapter needed some serious revision and I lost the motivation suddenly. Don't worry, the rest will be updated more quickly.**

**EDIT: I went over this chapter again to add in the italics because I missed some out. I hate it when I upload a document and only half the italics come through. :(**

* * *

Hermione was frantic. She had been in the shop for longer than she had expected, haggling over the price of a teapot, and when she had finally glanced at her watch and left the other woman to argue with the teapot, she was late by at least ten minutes. And now her son was nowhere to be seen.

She stood in the middle of the playground, hoping to catch a glimpse of him behind a bush. He used to play hide and seek with her; maybe he still was. "Halen! Come out now! This isn't funny!"

No answer.

"Halen!" she called again. "Halen, get out here now or you'll catch it from me!"

No childish voice replied, but a gruff one did hail her. "He went off with one of my customers."

Hermione spun around to face the old shopkeeper of the café across the street. "He did _what_?"

"Nearly fifteen minutes ago, I'd say. He said to tell you that 'Mister' was taking him to Florean Fortescue's and not to worry, because 'Mister' was sure that you'd be able to track him down if he kidnapped him."

"They went to the ice cream parlour?" she asked.

"Yep. I'd have thought they'd be back by now."

"Who did he go with?"

"One of my occasional customers. All I can tell you is he's tall. Never seen him without his cloak and hood."

_He sounds like a Death Eater. And this whole thing sounds wrong. Ice cream – exactly the kind of thing somebody would bribe a child with._

"Thanks, Jake," she called over her shoulder, not waiting for a reply before she strode off in the direction of the parlour.

Hermione's whole body was taut with tension. She was worried for Halen. What if he'd been targeted for revenge? She was one of Harry Potter's best friends, and he had been the one who had killed Voldemort. _Please, no. Anything but Halen._ He was her world.

She rounded a corner and the parlour was in sight. A familiar figure was sitting in the shop front with a man. Hermione closed her eyes momentarily and sighed in relief – relief that was quickly replaced with anger. After all she had taught Halen, he had calmly walked off with a stranger. And what business did that stranger have, taking her son away?

Halen had seen her now, and she distinctly saw the slump of his shoulders and the guilty expression that crept over his face. The man sitting with him saw the change and turned, seeing her. He quickly bent down and whispered to her son who frowned, then nodded.

Hermione entered the shop, the door slamming behind her. She went up to her son and caught his wrist, pulling him behind her. Her wand was out. She was ready to hex this stranger so badly he'd have to crawl out of the shop.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What did you do with my son?" She was well aware that her voice had risen and that everyone in the shop was staring at her.

"Mum, it's alright," Halen said, tugging at her hand. "Mister just bought me an ice cream."

"Halen Granger, you be quiet right now," she said, not once looking away from the stranger. "Who are you?"

He just looked at her silently, then tilted his head in the direction of the door and calmly walked out.

For some reason, Hermione's anger was not abated by his coolness.

She followed him outside, dragging Halen behind her. "Who are you?" she repeated, her voice rising even more.

"His name is Mister. He only bought me an ice cream, that's all," Halen again said.

She gave no sign that she had heard him, glaring at the stranger.

"I only meant to give him a treat," he finally said.

Hermione blinked. Something was strange about him. Perhaps his voice. Was it familiar? She wasn't sure. Discarding the thought, she said, though with less heat, "You had no right to take him away."

"My apologies."

The faint impression of familiarity grew slightly stronger. She frowned as she lowered her wand. "Who are you?"

He paused for a second. Then, "Excuse me." He turned and walked away from them.

"Thanks, mister!" Halen called after him.

"Wait!" Hermione cried. But he had Disapparated.

Hermione stood there, staring at the spot where he had been, still frowning. Halen's voice brought her back to earth again. "Mum, can we go now?"

"Yes," she said absently, "yes, let's go." They began walking towards the Leaky Cauldron. Her thoughts were still on the mysterious stranger. Why did he treat her son? And who was he?

"Mister was really nice," Halen said as they walked along. "He didn't talk a lot, but he told me to order whatever I wanted."

Hermione suddenly remembered what she was going to do – scold him. Which she proceeded to do. "Halen, I am very angry with you. What do I always tell you? Don't go off with a stranger. And what do you do?"

"Go off with a stranger," Halen said penitently. "But Mum, he said he knew you."

"He did?"

"Yeah, he said that… oh, I forgot." Halen stopped suddenly.

She frowned. "What did he say?"

"He asked me not to talk about him."

Hermione was about to question him more closely when an approaching figure caught her attention. Pansy Parkinson. She hadn't seen her since their schooldays and wasn't sure if she was married already. Just then, Parkinson looked up. They'd never exactly been chummy, but at least they'd both grown up enough not to choke on a curse when they saw each other. As Parkinson saw her, a sneer spread across her face. Hermione was fairly sure it was chronic.

"Granger," she said coolly, nodding to her.

"Parkinson," Hermione answered.

"And this must be your son. Charmi-" Pansy suddenly froze, staring at him. Halen looked right back at her.

Hermione knew exactly what she was thinking and didn't want any questions. "Sorry, can't hang around. See you sometime," silently adding in the next millennium. She didn't wait for a reply before she continued walking. She really ought to think about disguising Halen, but she hadn't wanted to when he was younger, and doing so now would only raise questions from everyone, especially Halen. And questions about why she suddenly chose to change his appearance were exactly what she didn't want. When they turned a corner, she glimpsed Parkinson staring after them, evidently having forgotten that she was standing in the middle of the road.

"Who was that, Mum?" Halen asked.

"An old schoolmate."

"Doesn't she like you?"

Hermione nodded. "Never did. We weren't exactly best friends."

"I don't like her either. Mum, did you see the look she gave us?" Hermione glanced at him and saw for the first time a sneer pasted on his face. She froze.

The sneer suddenly disappeared in a laugh. "Didn't I look like her?"

Hermione didn't answer.

Halen looked up at her. "Mum? What's the matter? Why'd you suddenly stop?"

"I…" Merlin, for a moment she could have sworn she was back in Hogwarts, glaring at another boy who was different and alike at the same time to the one standing next to her. It stabbed right through her. She became aware of his worried gaze and blinked, coming back to the present. "Nothing, sweetheart. Let's go home."

Halen thought she was unusually quiet all the way home.

He looked exactly like his father. How many times had she seen a sneer on that pale pointed face framed by blond hair? And those cool grey eyes, always alive with mockery and contempt. But he had changed since then. Those days in his villa – she'd discovered that the war could change people. A lot.

He was still cold and distant, but the sneer had disappeared. He'd definitely grown up. The boy she'd known would never have done what the man had; but then, the boy wouldn't have missed a chance to humiliate her. He wouldn't have been affected by her. He wouldn't have given her as much freedom as possible.

He wouldn't have saved her.

Twenty years after she had first met him and eleven years after she had last seen him, she still couldn't figure out her feelings for him. For the first seven years of their acquaintance, there had been a mutual dislike. No, dislike was too weak a term. He had been… well, he had been a git then, no point trying to make it sound nice. Afterwards, he'd joined the Death Eaters, and she'd wondered how he could do what he must have had to. Yes, he had been malicious, vindictive, spiteful, but never inhumane.

And then he had raped her, and she had hated nobody more than she hated him.

But he had saved her. Not only her; he had saved her son – their son. When she remembered that, she felt as though she could forgive him anything. Yet when they had heard that he had been convicted of Fred Weasley's murder, she was nauseated to think that she had once felt something other than hatred for him. Then it was reported that he had been released – for saving Muggle refugees. _Muggles_.

She didn't understand. Did that mean that she was just one of the people he had rescued? Or had it meant more? As time passed, she became less and less sure that she had really glimpsed those last words that he hadn't wanted her to see. Perhaps she had imagined it. And he had told her in no uncertain terms that he would not be associated with her and the child. _I don't care what you do with it. But I never want to see you or that again._

It. That. She doubted if he had even thought of their son as a human being.

Sometimes she wondered if he still remembered her. If he had, why hadn't he come to look for Halen and her? Then again, she couldn't imagine cold, aloof Malfoy looking up a woman. He probably had a whole queue of women chasing him – him and the vaults of Malfoy gold. At least he had a wider range to choose from now. He wouldn't have to resort to Mudbloods.

Just then, they arrived at home. Hermione tried to shake away the bitter thoughts as they entered the house. "Elvira, we're back," she called.

"Do you know what time it is?" Elvira emerged from the kitchen, scowling. "Everything's getting cold. You haven't changed one single bit."

"Neither have you." Hermione grinned.

"Hi, Aunty," Halen said.

"Halen, why didn't you remind your mother about the time?"

"Mum and Aunt Ginny took ages and we were bored, so Mum told us to go to the playground."

"But he didn't stay there, and that was half the problem," Hermione interjected.

Elvira's eyebrows went up. "What happened?"

Hermione told her about it during dinner. Elvira was as mystified as she was. In the end, the best she could come up with was, "Maybe he's just a rich man who's taken a liking to Halen."

Hermione looked unconvinced. "Yeah. Maybe."

"Mum, I think you were kind of scary," Halen piped up.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione raised an eyebrow in what she hoped was a threatening kind of manner.

"All Mister did was buy me an ice cream and then you yelled at him," said Halen, undaunted. "I reckon you scared him really bad. Maybe he won't buy me an ice cream ever again."

Hermione felt the beginnings of a twinge of guilt. Perhaps she had overreacted. She had always been rather touchy where Halen was concerned. "Halen, you know perfectly well that there are some Death Eaters out there who haven't been caught or convicted. What if your 'mister' was one of them? He might have been a kidnapper, did you ever think of that?"

"But why would he want to kidnap me?" Halen said, puzzled.

"Uncle Harry killed their leader. What if they wanted to kidnap you so Uncle Harry would help me to get you back? Then they would kill him when he came to rescue you."

He wrinkled his nose. "Wouldn't they kidnap James then? Or Al, or Lily?"

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. The sound of a chuckle made her glance over at Elvira. The look she got said, _I think he's got you_. Trying to cover up, Hermione said, "Don't talk with your mouth full. And look at you, you've managed to get grass stains on your pants again. It's the bathtub for you once you're done with dinner."

His groan mingled with Elvira's laughter.

Later, after Halen had gone to bed, Hermione and Elvira sat in the living room, talking.

"Halen's already winning arguments with you. He's growing up fast," Elvira said wistfully. "So fast."

Hermione sighed. "I know. Believe me, I know." She closed her eyes and tried to picture the next year – one without Halen running around, without his laughter echoing through the house, without his pranks driving her crazy, without his smile beaming up at her… She didn't like the look of it.

Elvira's voice broke into her thoughts as she changed the subject abruptly. "Hermione, about today. Do you think… I've been thinking, and do you think it could have been…well, could it have been _him_?"

Hermione knew exactly whom she meant.

"I…" She sighed again. "No. It can't have been."

"You said you thought he was rather familiar. You've got to admit that it fits. A rich man, tall, said he knew you, taking a special interest in Halen…"

"I only thought he was kind of familiar. I'm not completely sure. And he could have been lying. El, it's impossible. Look, after so many years – eleven whole years – why would he suddenly look for me now? If he was going to, he would have done it once he'd been released."

The other woman started to say something, but she continued. "I have plenty of old schoolmates whom I haven't seen in I don't know how long. The war changed a lot of people in a lot of ways. Maybe whoever it was got disfigured or something during the war and didn't want me to know who he is. And Halen looks a lot like… like him. Maybe he wanted to find out how on earth I ended up taking care of his son."

"That's a lot of maybes in there," Elvira retorted.

"Yeah, but it's still more plausible than imagining him disguising himself to get to know Halen. I mean – look, would he?" Hermione saw the scepticism that her friend was making no attempt to hide. "El, we haven't heard anything from him since the day he told us to get away from him. We haven't heard anything about him since he was released. Nobody knows if he's in England, let alone London. And how likely is it that he knows how to even talk to kids?"

Elvira sighed. "It's just that… it would be a lot easier if it was him. It'd be great – let them get to know each other, and one day, just say 'And by the way, sweetie, that's your father.' Dream up a nice story about why he's been an absentee father and bingo, problem of deciding how and when to tell him about his father solved."

Hermione snorted. "This is life. Not a bedtime story."

"You're going to have to tell Halen about him sooner or later, you know," said Elvira seriously. "You can't just keep saying that you'll tell him when he gets a bit older."

"I _know_, all right? I just don't know how I'm going to tell him that his father… that his father... how his father treated me."

"Pretty darned good, in other words."

"You know what I mean. Yeah, good for a Death Eater, but…"

She let her words trail off and they sat there in silence for a while. Finally, Hermione got up. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Elvira."

* * *

Hermione didn't think much more about that incident except to keep Halen with her when they went shopping. But that wasn't the end of it.

A few weeks later, she was in the Menagerie buying treats for Crookshanks the Second when Halen suddenly tugged at her sleeve.

"What is it now, Halen?" said Hermione, exasperated. He had been particularly troublesome since they left home, wanting to buy half the things he saw.

"Mister's over there, Mum," he half whispered, pointing at a tall, hooded man who stood nearby, obviously watching them.

"Mister?" she said, also speaking in a hushed voice. "You mean the man who took you to Fortescue's?"

Halen nodded, still staring at him. 'Mister' turned away, apparently intent on the cage of rats on the shelf.

"Don't stare, Halen, it's rude."

"Can I go talk to him?" he asked.

"No," she said, a little more sharply than she intended. "I want you to stay away from him, am I understood?"

Halen looked mutinous. "Why?" he asked, a touch of belligerence in his voice.

"I don't trust him," she said.

Hermione left the shop quickly, dragging a rather reluctant Halen behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Halen wave goodbye to him and she frowned.

They went to another shop, looking for a present for Hugo's birthday. 'Mister' followed them there.

She yanked Halen out of the shop and deliberately looked around for a shop that he would be distinctly out of place in. A lingerie shop caught her eye and she ducked in there, waiting to see if he would follow them again. Ignoring Halen's squirming, she stared out the shop window at the man, blatantly challenging him.

He hesitated, then walked in.

She drew her wand. "What – do – you – want?" she asked through her teeth. The shopkeeper looked up, alarmed at the prospect of a magical duel taking place in her shop. Before he could respond, the woman hurried over. "Now, dearies, there's no need for all this. I'm sure he's trying to make it up with you," she said soothingly.

Both ignored her.

"To talk to your son," he said in a low voice.

"Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you," Hermione retorted, but Halen, with impeccable timing, opened his big flipping mouth and contradicted her completely and rather too happily, she felt.

The man – man-like, she thought – didn't say anything but let the silence speak for him, and she bit her lip as she realised how foolish she sounded. Lowering her wand slightly, she glared at him.

The shopkeeper, reassured that the danger was past, returned to behind the counter where she watched the proceedings with interest.

Hermione gathered her wits. "I don't trust you," she said bluntly. "Why are you so interested in Halen?"

"He," he paused for a second, "amuses me."

"Oh, forgive me for depriving you of your toy," she snapped. "Halen's not going with you."

"Mum," begged Halen. "Please, let me go with Mister."

"Halen, don't you start – "

"I have no intention of harming him," that man interrupted.

"Words are cheap," she said.

"You may come along if you are so anxious about him."

The way he made it sound like a favour set her teeth on edge. Hermione was on the point of telling him to get lost when Halen grabbed her arm and looked beseechingly at her.

"Don't try that on me, young man," she said, trying to sound firm.

"Please."

"I said no…"

"Please, Mum."

Merlin, she was way too softhearted for her own good where Halen was concerned.

"I… you… I don't even know a thing about him," she said, visibly softening though still attempting to maintain a stern face.

Halen, with that uncanny instinct every child seemed to possess, sensed his advantage and pressed it. "He already said you could come along if you want to, if you're still worried he's a bad man."

"Halen, I…"

"Thanks, Mum!" he cried, hugging her and then dancing around her.

"I haven't said yes – "

"I love you, Mum," he said, giving her his widest smile, and enthusiastically hugged her again. Hermione looked around a bit helplessly, but Halen had already disengaged her and caught Mister's hand. Walking out of the shop, the two of them stopped and looked back at her, obviously waiting for her.

Wondering when Halen had become so successful at manipulating her, Hermione shook her head and followed them out.

Seeing as it was nearly dinnertime, he brought them to a restaurant to eat – an expensive one. Throughout the meal, he did not speak much except for a sporadic question to Halen, who certainly did not need any encouragement to talk. Hermione, on the other hand, hardly said a word, feeling distinctly out of place. She had never eaten dinner with someone she knew zilch about and had nothing to say to. Thankfully, Halen didn't seem to notice the tension between the two adults and filled up the silence with plenty of chatter about anything and everything, from Crookshanks to his opinion on the Chudley Cannons.

Hermione observed the stranger closely while they ate. She had thought that he would remove his hood then, but he kept it on even while he ate. Though he tried to hide it, he was listening intently to Halen. Occasionally, he would glance at her but quickly look away when he caught her eye. She found herself relaxing as they ate. He certainly didn't seem like he would hurt Halen.

He accompanied them back to Diagon Alley. Before he left them, he took Halen to the Emporium and let him pick out an owl. Halen, who was absolutely delighted, chose a miniature tawny owl which he promptly named Rupert.

"Rupert?" Hermione asked incredulously. "_Rupert_?"

"Isn't it a nice name?" Halen said proudly.

"Rupert?" she repeated faintly. "For an owl?"

She glanced involuntarily at the man. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw his mouth twitch, even in the darkness of his hood.

"I like it," Halen said complacently, happily oblivious to her unflattering disbelief.

Wordlessly, the stranger lifted the cage which held 'Rupert' and carried it to the counter.

"I'll pay for that," Hermione said quickly, unwilling to be indebted to him. She might as well have saved her breath. She was as successful as she had been in stopping Halen from going with him in the first place. Ignoring her completely, he plunked the Galleons down on the counter. He then handed the cage to Halen.

"When you come to Diagon Alley, send me a note," he said to Halen. "I'll come and pick you up."

Halen glanced up at her hesitantly.

Hermione was about to say that she hadn't given her permission when she stopped herself. She had no reason to mistrust him, she reminded herself. Besides, she was beginning to wonder if she didn't sound like a shrew.

Looking down into Halen's hopeful face, she nodded. He beamed beatifically and turned to the man.

"I will, Mister," he said delightedly. "Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

****

A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's Master. Absolutely freaking _awesome _story, go read it (/s/3789532/1/Master) or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story. The story is going to be as clean as I can make it and that includes adult themes and swearing.

In the weeks that followed, Hermione knew she was right about him. He never hurt Halen. In fact, her son came back from every excursion bubbling with excitement. "Mister bought me a Sneakoscope, Mum, it's guaranteed to light up if there's something bad within a mile… he took me to the Menagerie and let me touch the _snake_… the biggest jar of Chocolate Frogs I've ever had…"

"Enough, Halen," Hermione said a little grumpily. "Mister's an angel with a fat wallet. I got the idea. You shouldn't be eating so much chocolate." She wouldn't admit to herself that she was getting a little jealous.

One day, Halen came running up to her as she was heading off towards the Menagerie. "Mum, can I go to Mister's house?"

"His house?" she echoed, rather surprised. From what she knew of him, he was an intensely private person. He wouldn't even tell Halen his name. And up to now, his need for privacy had impressed itself so strongly on her son that she had given up trying to pry anything out of him. Yet he invited him to his home? Strange.

"Yeah, just for today. He says he'll bring me back home."

Hermione looked past him to the tall figure standing some distance behind him. He stood there, watching them. She squinted, trying to make out his body language, but it told her nothing. He just stood.

She walked to him and asked, "When will you bring him back?"

There was a distinct pause before he answered. He never spoke to her if he could help it, she noted. "When would you like him to return?"

"Four thirty, latest," she said.

He nodded.

Hermione looked down at Halen. "You can go, but you better behave yourself. Don't touch anything you're not supposed to. Remember to…"

"Yes, Mum! I know!" Halen interrupted indignantly.

She shook her head ruefully. If she wasn't careful she would turn into her mother. "Go on then."

They left, and she continued to the Menagerie to get owl treats.

* * *

He had finally decided to invite Halen to his house. For one thing, there were questions he wanted to ask him but couldn't, not in public where anyone might overhear. And for another… to tell the truth, he wasn't quite sure why he wanted a little boy's approval of where he lived, but he did.

He took Halen on the Knight Bus to just outside the manor, which he had moved into when he returned to London. It was his ancestral home, after all, no matter what had gone on inside its walls – or rather, who had gone inside its walls. Since then, he had tried to change it a little, make a few rooms less gloomy, though most of the manor remained rather depressing. He used to amuse himself with designing it the way he thought she would, though once he finished with a room he sealed it shut. But if Halen wanted to see them, then he would open them up. He looked down at the blond head bobbing besides him. Halen's eyes were big as he took in the vastness of the manor. "Wow," he breathed. "It's huge, Mister."

Halen slipped his hand into his and they walked through the high, metal gates, which slowly closed behind them.

They went over the house, into rooms that he hadn't entered for years, all because Halen wanted to. He had to explore everything, touch everything despite his mother's parting injunction, ask a million questions about why something was where it was, what was it, where it came from… By the time they had gone over half the house, he was beginning to regret having bought him chocolate before bringing him back.

Finally, even Halen began to tire and they sat in the kitchen eating sandwiches, the house elves out of sight. "Mister, I like your stuff. It's so cool!"

"Do you like the house?" he asked.

Halen flushed slightly. "It's… it's really big?" he offered. "And… and it's really… really…um, it's really big!" he said, gesturing wildly as though words could not express the _bigness_ of it all. "And I like your stuff…"

"You don't like the house, do you?"

His face fell slightly, obviously chagrined and unwilling to offend him. "Well, no, not really. Maybe I'm just not used to it. But I'm sure heaps of people would like it. Like James and Lily and Hugo and Rose. We could play hide and seek for the whole day."

"I'm sure you could," he said dryly. "Don't worry about not liking it. I don't like it that much either." He looked away for a moment. "It's cold and empty," he said, more to himself than to the little boy.

"Well, yeah," Halen said, hesitating before he continued. "Mister, don't you have a wife?"

"Do you see one around?"

"Maybe you should get one. Like my mum. She's fun to be around, even if she…" he lowered his voice, "you know, nags a little."

The irony struck him forcefully and a bitter half smile curled his lips. "Perhaps," he said. _Yeah. When the Mark can be erased. She already has someone. She'll never accept me._

"A wife would be good for you," Halen said earnestly. "She'd be good company. I'm going to get me one when I grow up."

An involuntary laugh echoed around the room. Halen looked slightly offended.

"What makes you think I need company?" he asked, trying to make him think that he had not been laughing at the second part of his little speech.

Grey eyes met his in a startlingly direct look. "Because you're lonely."

He stiffened. "No. No, I'm not."

Those eyes were still fixed on his. "Really, Mister?"

The perceptiveness of the little boy sitting in front of him shook him. Had he been that obvious?

"I don't need advice from a ten year old, thank you," he said coldly, and immediately felt guilty as he saw a hurt expression cross his little face as Halen quickly glanced away. He had never spoken so sharply to him before.

He wanted to apologise, but didn't know how. Finally, he said, "Are you ever lonely?"

Halen seemed more subdued as he said, "No, not really because I have Mum and everybody. But I've seen Mum sometimes when she doesn't know I'm looking, and she looks lonely. Like when she leaves Uncle Harry's house after dinner and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny say goodbye to her. She will smile at them, but it's not her happy smile, and then she won't talk much on the way home."

"Doesn't she have you and…" He didn't want to mention Weasley's name. "and Potter, and the rest?"

"Yeah, but it's not the same."

He thought Halen looked rather wistful right then. "What do you mean?" As he spoke, he turned to clear the plates away.

"Aunt Ginny has Uncle Harry but Mum doesn't have anyone," he said, as though stating the obvious.

He jerked around to face Halen, startling him and nearly sending the plates crashing to the floor. "What do you mean, she doesn't have anyone? Isn't she married to Weasley? Ronald Weasley?"

Halen looked confused. "Uncle Ron's married to Aunt Lavender. Didn't I tell you about Rose? He's her dad."

"Merlin," he half whispered. She hadn't married Weasley. She wasn't married.

He hated himself for the wild hope that he couldn't quite quench immediately. Had it been for him?

_No. No. It's impossible. Not after all I've done. I… Merlin, I don't understand._

He didn't know how long he stared at Halen for until the boy's voice roused him. "Mister?" he said, his voice uncertain. "Mister, are you okay?"

He turned away to stare blindly out of the window, a whirlwind of emotions raging inside him. What did it mean? Did it even mean anything?

The silence stretched until Halen nervously said, "Mister?"

Still staring outside, he said, "You said you had younger siblings."

"I meant James and the rest," Halen said. "Mum says we might as well be."

"But you call Ginny Weasley Aunt."

"I've always called her that," Halen said, shrugging. "I don't know why."

Silence fell between them again. Finally, he swung around to face Halen. "Did your mother ever talk to you about your father?"

Halen looked surprised at the abrupt change in topic. "Well, I asked Mum about it once but she didn't tell me much. She said she would tell me everything when I was older. She… she kind of cried so I didn't ask her again." A little frown creased his forehead as his mouth turned down at the corners.

"Have you ever heard of a Pensieve?" he asked.

"A Pensieve?" Halen echoed. "What's that? Is it like a Sneakoscope?"

"Come," he said and strode out of the room, Halen obediently following in his wake. They reached his study and he pushed the doors open. He went to a cupboard and pulled out a shallow stone basin covered with markings, placing it on his desk.

"This is a Pensieve," he said. "It allows people to see the memories of others."

Halen was wide eyed. "Really?"

He nodded. "I want to see your memory of that day. May I?"

He saw reluctance written over Halen's face as he glanced away. Reaching out a hand, he gently tilted Halen's chin up so he was looking at him. "I wouldn't ask this if it wasn't important."

A fleeting hesitation crossed the little face but he nodded. "But how? Does it hurt?"

"No, not at all. Just think of that time."

Halen nodded again, his face screwed up in concentration.

He pulled out his wand. Tapping the boy's temple lightly, he then withdrew his wand, a silvery thread-like substance clinging to it. He placed it carefully in the Pensieve and said, "You can open your eyes now."

Halen did, and gasped. "Wow! Is that my memory?"

"Yes," he said. He held out his hand and Halen took it. "Now you touch the memory with the tip of your nose."

They did so, and disappeared into the memory.

They were in the hallway of a house rather on the small side, though it was bright and cheerful. A woman with long brown hair had just entered the house, and he felt the familiar lurch inside him as he saw her. A little boy with blond hair and grey eyes, looking to be about five or so, followed her in.

"Hey, that's me! When I was little," Halen added unnecessarily. "And that's my mum."

His mother glanced at the clock. "Elvira?" she called. "We're home."

Elvira came out of the kitchen. "For once, you're actually back early."

They ate dinner. He noticed the little boy seemed subdued throughout, not saying much and poking at his food. His mother also observed it.

"Halen, what's the matter with you?" she said. "You've been so quiet since I picked you up. Did you quarrel with James again?"

"No, Mummy."

"Or Teddy?"

"No-o, I never quarrel with Teddy."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing." But he continued to shift his food around, not actually eating much.

The rest of the dinner was filled with conversation between the two women. "I've been having a few problems at work… your beloved Crookshanks just smashed the vase the Potters sent you for Christmas… remind me to get something for Lily's birthday… we're out of milk…"

"It's a bit boring," Halen said quickly.

"It's all right." It was. He was grateful for a glimpse into her normal, everyday life.

Eventually, the dishes were cleared and the boy was sent upstairs for a bath.

They followed him upstairs, remaining outside the bathroom. Voices floated upstairs, somewhat obscured by the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. "Hermione, there's something wrong with Halen. He's barely touched even his favourite steak."

"I know. I'll try and talk to him tonight."

A while later, the little boy came out of the bathroom dressed in his pyjamas, his blond hair still wet. He went into his bedroom. The wallpaper had Snitches and broomsticks scattered on it. A short while later, his mother came into the room to tuck him in. She shook her head over his still wet hair and towelled it dry.

"I was only four," Halen interjected, evidently feeling rather embarrassed. He said nothing, just squeezed his hand slightly.

His mother pulled up a chair. "Do you want me to read to you tonight?"

"No, not really."

"All right, do you want to tell me what's wrong with you?"

The little boy was quiet for a moment.

"Mummy, Teddy asked me… he asked me why I don't have a dad."

His mother stiffened.

"Why don't I have a daddy? Where's my daddy? Why isn't he here?"

She didn't reply.

"Mummy?"

"Halen… please, don't ask me about this now," she said, her voice almost pleading.

"But why? Is he dead?"

"No," she said softly, "no, he isn't."

"Then why isn't he here? Why aren't we with him?"

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Halen, please."

"Doesn't he care about us?" he asked, his eyes filled with hurt.

"He kicked your mother out when he found out she was pregnant." They both turned at the voice coming from the doorway. Elvira was standing there with a stack of laundry in her arms.

"Elvira, don't, please," his mother said.

Elvira shrugged and placed the clean laundry on his closet and left, closing the door behind her.

A silence hung in the air, thick and heavy. The boy's eyes were wide and glimmered with tears.

"Mummy, is it true?"

There was a pause. Then, "Yes."

The tears started to fall. "He didn't want me. That's why he made you go away."

"Sweetie, that's not true –"

"Yes, it is!" he cried. "He must have liked you, that's why you got married but he didn't want me, so he made you go away!"

She didn't speak for a moment. Then she said carefully, "We weren't married."

The boy gaped at her. "But only married people have children…"

"That's not always true, sweetheart. I'll explain it to you when you're a bit older."

"I don't understand…"

"Your father left us alone," she interrupted. Her eyes were hard. "The second he found out I was going to have a baby, he showed me a way out and told me that he never wanted to see me and the baby again."

"He… he did?" More tears spilled over. "Then he really didn't care about us?"

She sighed, and her eyes softened. "Halen, there are some things you don't know about. There were problems… I had to go away. The war was still going on…"

"Then why didn't he come look for us after the war ended?" he wailed.

A slight, bitter smile twisted her lips. "I'd like to know the answer too," she murmured, more to herself than to her son.

He began crying in earnest.

She bent over and gathered the little boy into her arms and he sobbed into her shoulder. "Oh, Mummy, I want a daddy so much… I want a daddy like Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron…"

A tear fell onto his blond head as she blinked.

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry I can't give you a father. I'm so sorry." A second tear fell, gleaming in the soft light.

"But _why_? What happened? Who's my daddy?" The boy pulled back to look at her.

"Sweetheart, you can't understand some things now… what happened then…it was…" Her voice faltered and another tear slid down her cheek.

The little boy was aghast. "Mummy, don't cry. I'm sorry, I won't ask again…"

"It's not your fault, darling," she said, brushing her tears away. "I'll tell you when you're older. It doesn't matter whether your father wants you or not. _I_ want you. I love you."

"I love you too, Mummy."

She smoothed his tears away. Kissing him on the cheek, she tucked him in and blew out the light. "Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams."

"Can you stay with me tonight?"

In the faint moonlight streaming through the window, her small sad smile could still be seen. "Of course, baby." She nudged him and he slid over to make room for her. She put her arm around him and he snuggled up against her.

"You'll tell me about my daddy one day?" he asked.

She dropped a kiss on his head. "I swear I will," she said softly.

"Was he… was he good?"

She looked down at the little boy who was anxiously waiting for the answer. She seemed to be struggling with herself. Then, "Yes. Yes, he was a good man."

He sighed, and the tension seemed to seep out of his small body.

"Good night, Mummy."

And they were once again standing in the study in the manor.

He let go of Halen's hand and crossed the room to face the extensive grounds belonging to the manor. He gripped the windowsill to steady his hands. She blamed him. Maybe even hated him. She hadn't forgiven him after all, had she? He had been a fool – the worst kind of fool – to even hope for that one bit of comfort. He had thought she'd understood, especially after that one glorious, wild night; he'd even let her use Legilimency on him in the hope that she would fully understand. Perhaps she did appreciate the necessity of his actions during the war, but she certainly didn't understand why he hadn't searched for them afterwards.

_I wanted to. You'll never know how much I wanted to. But I couldn't…oh, Merlin, will you ever understand?_

A voice broke into his thoughts. Halen. He'd almost forgotten about his presence.

"Mister, I think I'm supposed to go home now."

He glanced at the clock in the study. "Come, I'll take you home."

He Disapparated to Diagon Alley and let Halen lead him to the house. Before they reached the house, he suddenly crouched down next to Halen and gripped him by the shoulders, looking into his eyes.

"Promise me you won't tell your mother anything about today. Not even how the house looks like."

Halen looked startled at his intensity. "Yes, of course," he said. "I never tell Mum about you and if you don't want me to tell her about your house, I won't."

"Not just the house," he said forcefully, giving him a slight shake. "Don't tell her _anything_ about what happened today."

"Okay," said Halen.

He relaxed and stood up again. They turned a corner and Halen raised his hand to point to a little house that stood on the corner of a street. "There, that's my house," he said proudly. "I like it, don't you?"

"It's nice," he said without knowing what he said. They walked up to the door and Halen rang the doorbell. Hermione opened the door instantly and caught Halen to her, hugging him. Her eyes were red and it was obvious that she had been crying.

He stood dumbly on the doorstep, not knowing what to do.

Halen was utterly bemused. "Mum?" he said, evidently bewildered by the sudden display of emotion. "What's wrong?"

"Ron…" she began, and then started crying again.

"What happened to Uncle Ron?"

"He's been hurt badly, he's at St Mungo's now… he was with the other Aurors capturing Dolohov but he got hit… oh, Ron, Ron…"

Alarm rang in Halen's voice. "But he'll be okay, right? The Healers can fix anything, can't they?"

"I don't know, I don't know…" cried Hermione. "All the note said was Ron had been hit badly by Dolohov. Lavender's devastated, and Harry and the rest, they're all over at St Mungo's, waiting for the Healers' report. I'm taking you there right now."

Before they Disapparated, Hermione seemed to remember his presence and looked up at him. "Thank you for bringing him back."

"It was nothing." He hesitated, then added, "I'm sorry." He wanted to comfort her, but he had no right to and so he did nothing.

She gave an involuntary sniff and said, "It's all right. Come, Halen."

They went into the house, closed the door, and left him to go back to his empty house and try to wrestle his thoughts and emotions into some semblance of order in an attempt to regain his composure.

* * *

**Ok, I honestly think this chapter isn't that great. The next one is better.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's Master. Absolutely freaking _awesome _story, go read it (/s/3789532/1/Master) or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story. The story is going to be as clean as I can make it and that includes adult themes and swearing. **

* * *

Hermione and Halen travelled to St Mungo's using the Floo Network. They rushed to Ron's ward, where Lavender, her children, Harry and Ginny were waiting. Harry was pacing, Ginny was staring blankly at a wall and tears were pouring silently down Lavender's face. All of them looked pale. They glanced up as Hermione came up to them, Halen tailing her.

"Have the Healers said anything yet?" she asked urgently.

Before anyone could answer, a Healer came out of the ward. He was immediately surrounded.

"It took a lot of work, but his life isn't in any immediate danger anymore as far as we can tell," he said in reply to the barrage of questions that poured, looking harassed. "He was hit by a curse we've never seen before. Yes, he's conscious at the moment, but only just. Mr Weasley's lucky to be alive, actually – you should thank the people who got him here so quickly."

The tension seemed to go out of everyone. Lavender gave a sniff, and the doctor's gaze fell on her. "You'll be Mrs Weasley?"

"Yes," she said tremulously. "Can I see my husband?"

His eyes softened. "I'm afraid not. He's still very weak –"

"This is her husband you're talking about," Harry interrupted harshly.

He glanced up and recognised Harry. "I don't know, Mr Potter…"

"I want to see my husband," Lavender said. "Please."

The Healer – his name tag said Wilkins – sighed, shrugged and stood aside. "Only Mrs Weasley, though. You understand that too many visitors might agitate him – "

Lavender hadn't waited for the rest of the sentence before she pushed through the doors and disappeared into the ward. The doors swung shut behind her.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "He's all right. Thank goodness he's all right. He'll recover in time, won't he, doctor?"

Wilkins looked at her. "I said that he's not in any immediate danger anymore as far as we can tell," he said, not unkindly.

This time, they caught the slight stress he laid on the words 'immediate' and 'as far as we can tell'. Ginny and Hermione turned pale.

"You mean…" Ginny whispered.

"We haven't seen anything like this before," he said. "It's hard to determine the full effects at this stage."

Harry's eyes were intense. "Is it possible that he might die?" he asked bluntly.

Hermione sucked in her breath sharply, the sound audible in the hushed corridors of the hospital.

"Frankly speaking, I don't know, Mr Potter."

Ginny began to cry, and Harry caught her and hugged her tightly. Hermione stood there, wringing her hands helplessly as the tears began to fall again, longing for someone to comfort her the way Harry was comforting Ginny, but no one was there to hold her; to tell her Ron was going to be okay because half a dozen Death Eaters hadn't killed him and there was no way a single one could, especially an idiot like Dolohov; no feeling secure while wrapped in someone's arms…

Halen tugged at her skirt, and she looked down, her son's face barely visible through her tears. "Is Uncle Ron going to be okay?"

"Oh, Halen." She let out a shuddering breath and bent to hug him. Despite her grief over Ron, she couldn't help wondering if this was a picture of the rest of her life – when she wanted comfort, she had to give it instead of receiving it. Still, the feel of Halen's arms around her neck soothed her a little.

Rose was crying while Hugo looked bewilderedly worried, and she gathered them on her lap. Ginny pulled away from Harry, brushing her tears away fiercely and turned to the children. "Listen to me, Rose, Hugo. Your dad's going to be fine. The doctors will find out what's wrong with him and then they'll heal him."

"Really?" Rose sniffed.

"Yes," Harry said firmly. "Your dad's going to be okay. You'll see."

The children subsided, seeming marginally comforted.

"Where are the rest?" Hermione asked, breaking the short silence.

"The children are with a babysitter at the moment," Ginny said. "Mum and Dad are visiting Bill right now, Percy's off doing something for the Ministry and George is in Romania, getting dragon claw from Charlie. They'll all be back in a few weeks."

A short while later, Lavender came out, looking pale and drained. "He's conscious, but he's delirious. He couldn't recognise me…" She began to sob. "He looks so white… oh, _Ron_…"

Her children tugged at her skirt. She looked down at them as though just recollecting their presence and knelt down to hug them.

"Daddy's hurt?" Hugo asked. He was only four, too young to fully understand. "Can't you fix him, Mummy? Like you fixed my broomstick?"

Lavender's face crumpled. "No, sweetheart. He's hurt bad this time. The Healers will do that."

"But they can, right?" Rose asked, sounding panicky.

"Yes," Lavender whispered. "Yes, they can."

"Yes, they can," Harry repeated firmly.

"Yes, they can," Ginny echoed.

"Yes, they can," Hermione said softly.

The children relaxed, reassured, but the adults met the others' eyes over the little heads and their eyes spoke of the hope that they weren't lying.

Hermione hugged Halen closer to her, drawing some comfort from his warm body.

* * *

As the days went on, the doctors didn't seem to be making any headway. Ron's condition improved slightly for a time, but though he occasionally could recognise them, he still couldn't get out of bed. After that, he got worse again. His lucid periods were few and far between.

Hermione still remembered the time when Dolohov had hit her with a curse. She had had to take ten different types of potions a day, but they had worked. She asked the Healers if the curses used were similar, if the cures might be similar, but they said it appeared to have been modified.

She didn't have much appetite these days, merely poking at her food and attempting to hide her lack of appetite from Halen. At least he didn't seem to be affected. They hadn't taken the kids in to see Ron, aside from Rose and Hugo. They had decided that it would be best to keep the severity of Ron's condition from them. Even Rose and Hugo had been allowed in only when Lavender had gone in first to be sure that Ron was lucid.

When Hermione had visited Ron, she had been shocked. Lavender hadn't exaggerated when she said he was white. Even his lips were bloodless. He'd managed a weak smile, but he'd hardly been able to speak. Yes, it was definitely better to keep the kids as insulated from Ron's condition as possible, which was steadily worsening in any case. It was bad enough for her, even, let alone the kids. She was afraid that Ron would be like that forever. It was terrible to even imagine Ron, the Ron who had been so full of life and fun and laughter, to be reduced to a pale, thin shadow of what he had been. And what if he… what if he died?

She repressed a shudder and the tears that threatened to spill over.

* * *

A few weeks later, a handsome tawny owl flew into the house through an open window. Halen shrieked in surprise and Hermione flung herself out of the study where she had been researching for little known curses, her wand at the ready. Seeing it was only an owl, she relaxed and extracted the letter tied to its leg. It ruffled its feathers and calmly flew to a perch, evidently waiting for an answer. Thinking it might be from St Mungo's, she tore it open hastily.

It wasn't from St Mungo's. Neither was it from Harry or Lavender.

"Who's it from, Mum?" asked Halen.

"It's from your 'Mister'. He wants to take you out tomorrow."

Halen's eyes lit up. "May I?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say no. She wasn't feeling well and taking Halen to Diagon Alley would mean time lost in searching for a way to help Ron. But she looked at his hopeful face and relented. It would be good for him to have a day out. She hadn't taken him out recently, not since Ron's injury.

"You may," she said. "I'll take you to Diagon Alley tomorrow."

Halen flung his arms around her with a quick "Thanks, Mum!" and scampered off to write a reply.

* * *

He was taken aback when he saw her and Halen walking slowly towards him. She was a lot paler and thinner since he had last seen her – her body seemed lost in the billowing robes she wore. She looked fragile, delicate, as though a strong breeze could blow her away. He knew she was stronger than that; she'd proved it while he had held her captive. Yet it seemed like Weasley's injury had affected her badly. Did she care for him that much?

He shook off the unwelcome thought as they approached. Up close, her skin was almost translucent. She looked wan, though she managed a smile.

"Hi," she said. "Could you bring him back around five thirty?"

He nodded.

"Where are you taking him?" she asked.

"Johnson's," he said, knowing she'd be surprised.

He wasn't disappointed. Her eyebrows shot up. "Johnson's Magica Menagerie?" she said.

"Yes," he said. "I don't think he's been there before."

"You're right there."

They were silent as they began to walk towards the Leaky Cauldron, Halen between them. He would exit with Halen and take the Knight Bus to Johnson's, while she would go home.

Suddenly, his voice interrupted the silence. "You don't look well."

The words seemed to come almost reluctantly. She was rather taken aback – it was the first time he'd spoken to her without necessity.

"I…It's Ron," she said, glancing away momentarily. "He's not getting any better – in fact, he's getting worse. It's been three weeks and…" She stopped, then continued with an effort. "He hasn't responded significantly to any treatment. The Healers sound less and less hopeful, and – "

Just then, the three of them entered Muggle London. Suddenly Halen yelled, "Teddy! Mum, look, Teddy's over there, across the street!"

"Halen, Teddy's at Hogwarts, remember? That's not him – "

But Halen hadn't waited to listen before dashing across the street.

A car came roaring around the corner.

Hermione screamed.

Terror immobilised her as surely as though she had had the full Body Bind Curse put on her. She felt the world spin around her and for a moment she thought she might faint. Halen turned at her shriek and saw the car. His grey eyes grew huge with shock and he froze right there, in the middle of the street.

The stranger did not. Moving faster than she would ever have thought possible, he hurtled across the street, pushing Halen out of harm's way. The car hit him a glancing blow as it sped past and he hit the ground, landing heavily on his wrist. Sheltered in his arms, Halen was shaken but unhurt.

Hermione suddenly rediscovered the use of her limbs and fairly flew over the distance separating them. She barely noticed that the man's hood had fallen back; her attention was completely focused on her son. She caught him up and crushed him to her.

"Are you all right?" she said shrilly, almost hysterically. "Are you all right, are you hurt, oh, Halen…"

"I'm… I'm fine, Mum," Halen said, rather dazed.

She pulled away and gave him a quick once over. Satisfied that he was unhurt, she hugged him tightly again. "You could have been killed! Don't you ever, _ever _do that again, do you hear me? I couldn't bear it if I lost you too." She blinked away her tears. Her emotions seemed to be so close to the surface nowadays, ever since Ron's injury.

Halen tried to reassure her. "It's okay, Mum, really."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Halen's 'Mister' get to his feet and tap his wrist with his wand, wincing as he did so and a soft "_Episkey_" reached her ears.

She sniffed and, releasing Halen, turned to thank him, whose hand was even then reaching hastily back to pull his hood back over his face.

Hermione looked up and met familiar grey eyes. White blond hair framed a pale face with a pointed chin. He hadn't changed much; not physically, anyway.

This last shock was too much for her.

"_Draco_…" she whispered, and crumpled.

He barely caught her before she hit the ground.

* * *

**A/N: So they finally meet. Guess what happens next...**

**But I'm estimating another at least 4 chapters. An estimate only, it might be more or less.**

**EDIT: Thanks to shel for pointing out my mistake. Fred is dead. Oops. It's fixed now. Note to self: when juggling 2 fanfics and another story plus assorted schoolwork, take note of the details!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's Master. Absolutely freaking _awesome _story, go read it (it's in my favourites) or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story. The story is going to be as clean as I can make it and that includes adult themes and swearing. **

**Oh, and kudos to sunburnt, who guessed that Draco would take her back to the Manor. XD**

**

* * *

**Halen shrieked. "Mum! Mum, are you dead? _Mum_!"

Draco looked around frantically, his newly mended wrist still hurting somewhat and not helped a bit by the unconscious woman in his arms. The few Muggle passers by were beginning to stare.

"Halen, be quiet!" he hissed. "She's not dead."

One man walked up to him. " 'Scuse me, mate, d'you want me to call an ambulance? Only she looks about half dead and you and the kid might have hurt something - "

"No!" It came out a bit – quite a bit – more sharply than he'd intended and the man looked taken aback and slightly offended. "No, she's fine," he forced himself to say lightly. "It's just the heat. I need to get her indoors."

"You sure about that? Looks to me as though – "

"Thank you," Draco said pointedly. If the well-meaning idiot didn't shut _up_ and get _out _of the way he was going to curse him into oblivion and the Ministry could chuck him in Azkaban afterwards. "Come, Halen." He shifted Hermione and strode back to the Leaky Cauldron and a discreet place to Disapparate from, her head lolling lifelessly against his chest while Halen ran to keep up with him. Merlin, there better not be anything wrong with her aside from lack of food and sleep.

The moment they reached the Leaky Cauldron, Draco said, "Halen, hold on to me tightly."

Halen did so, and with a loud _crack_, they Disapparated to the Malfoy Manor.

Draco laid her down on the bed in one of the redecorated rooms and stood there, staring intently at her. Besides him, Halen was shaking her gently, trying to wake her up. She was still out of it – her face was pale as the Bloody Baron's and her breathing was shallow. Her long hair lay in tumbled curls, dark against the white pillow.

"She's all right, Halen," he said. "She's just fainted."

"You're sure she's all right?" Halen asked.

Draco nodded as Halen looked up at him for the first time since Hermione had collapsed. Halen's mouth fell open. "Hey mister, you look like me!" he blurted.

He didn't respond, just continued staring at Hermione.

"Are you my uncle or something?" Halen asked, owl eyed.

Draco finally turned to Halen. "No. I'm not your uncle."

The boy frowned. "Then why – "

"Go get a glass of wine for your mum when she wakes up," he interrupted shortly. "The bottle's in the cabinet next to the sink." He didn't want any questions, not right now. He wasn't prepared for this; Merlin's beard, how was he supposed to tell Halen that he was his absentee father?

Thankfully, Halen had immediately left, eager to do anything that might help his mother. Draco was glad of the short time he had to try to get his emotions and thoughts into some semblance of order. Right then, the main thought that stood out was: _she fainted the second she saw me._

Somehow, he didn't think that was a good sign.

Merlin, perhaps he should just Disapparate right now; get out of this whole sorry mess while he could and let her be as happy as possible. Obviously, she didn't want him around. Maybe she thought he would try to take Halen away from her.

Still, something niggled at him. Something didn't fit. Then he had it: she had called him Draco. Not Malfoy. _Draco_.

Perhaps it was just a slip of the tongue.

Yeah, maybe.

Draco hadn't even realised he was still staring down at her until she moaned softly and moved her head restlessly on the pillow. Her eyes fluttered open and their eyes met.

For a moment, they froze like that, brown eyes staring into grey, until the pitter-patter of footsteps could be heard outside. Hermione blinked and glanced away to see Halen come in, carefully carrying a glass of red wine. Draco abruptly turned away and walked to the window.

Halen's small face lit up when he saw that his mother had woken up. "Mum, are you feeling better?" he asked tentatively.

Hermione's eyes were fixed on the back of the man standing at the window. "Yes, a little," she answered slowly, still disorientated and feeling rather giddy. "Is that for me?"

Halen nodded and handed her the glass. She closed her eyes and sipped, feeling the warmth spread throughout her body. Her hand shook slightly and she nearly spilled the wine on herself. She set it down on the bedside table before an accident could happen.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Mister's house," Halen said. The Malfoy Manor, then.

"How long have I been out?"

"I don't know, not very long. You fainted and then Mister brought us here. You scared me bad, Mum."

Hermione smiled at him tiredly. "Sorry, sweetheart." She wasn't really paying much attention to the conversation, neither was she particularly interested in the answers – they were just a way to ignore the tension that was rapidly building up now that she couldn't think of anything else to say because it felt like there was a freshly caught Cornish pixie let loose inside her skull.

A pregnant silence filled the room. Halen broke it when he whispered, "Mum, why does Mister look like me?" Unfortunately, the room was so quiet that Hermione knew Draco must have heard it anyway. She glanced involuntarily at him and saw his back stiffen.

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to sit up. The room spun around her for a second, but she recovered quickly. Halen quickly propped up the pillows and she leant back against them.

She looked at Draco again. He had turned around to face them. He appeared calm, but when she looked closer, she noticed the faint – very faint – lines of tension around his eyes – the same ones she had seen during the days before she finally reached the big red button marked 'Don't Push'.

"Halen…" She stopped, then continued in a voice that had suddenly grown constricted. "Halen, this is your father, Draco Malfoy."

* * *

**This is just a sneak preview of the next chapter. Will upload the rest of it soon... very very soon, I swear. Really.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's Master. Absolutely freaking _awesome _story, go read it (it's in my favourites) or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story. The story is going to be as clean as I can make it and that includes adult themes and swearing.**

**This chapter is the one with mention of adult themes.**

**Oh, and I have to tell you, your reviews really make me want to update. :) So this is for all you people who reviewed! Especially those who keep reviewing: sunburnt, dracokzeL08, waffenmac, pstibbons etc to list a few. You guys are angels. XD**

* * *

The room was still.

Very still.

But it wasn't peaceful. Rather, it was like the stillness before a storm – one that boded no good.

Halen whipped around to stare at Draco. Grey eyes stared into grey. The air seemed to crackle.

Halen shook his head slowly, as though he wasn't even aware he was doing it. He said softly, "You can't be my father."

Hermione reached for Halen's hand and squeezed it. "He is your father."

He was still shaking his head. "But my dad doesn't care about us," he said, bewilderment plain in his voice. "My dad's mean."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

Draco suddenly turned and strode out of the room.

Mother and son stared after him.

"Mum, are you _sure_? Is Mister really… is he really my father?" Halen ended in almost a whisper.

Hermione said softly, "Yes, he is."

"I… I don't understand!" Halen cried. "I thought you said he never wanted to see us again? Then why was he nice to me? Why didn't he come to look for us? Why did you have me if you didn't like each other?"

"Sweetie, I told you that I'll tell you everything when you get older – "

"You told me that six _years_ ago! I want to know _now_!"

Hermione shook her head helplessly. "You're too young – "

"Tell me now, Mum!" Halen nearly shouted. "I want to know about my dad, how can you hide it from me – "

"Don't you talk to me like that, Halen!" she snapped. They had never argued before and it drained her emotionally. It was easier to get angry than to feel hurt.

Halen's jaw was clenched and his eyes were angry and hard and his resemblance to his father struck her anew.

Hermione closed her eyes against the pounding headache that was making its presence felt again. She wished for someone to advise her on what to do now. How could she tell her ten-year-old son what his father had done? How he had forced himself on her while a whole roomful of Death Eaters watched and laughed and jeered –

"Are you thinking about him now?" Halen asked, his voice low and angry.

Hermione sighed heavily, her eyes still closed. "Halen, please try to understand – "

The first thing she felt was a hand plunging into the pocket in which she kept her wand. The second was a wandtip – _her_ wandtip – pressing against her forehead, and a sudden sense of loss. Her eyes flew open and she saw Halen standing next to the bed with silver threads dangling from the tip of her wand.

He took off running.

"Halen!" She threw back the covers and attempted to follow him, but the room spun around her and she nearly threw up. Oh, G, this was all wrong. He couldn't be allowed to see it. How had he known that memories could be extracted?

"_Halen, come back_!"

Draco had left the room when he couldn't bear that clear, innocent, troubled gaze for one more second. _But my dad doesn't care about us._ Merlin. He hadn't had any idea how those few simple words could cut him as deeply as they had. He leant against the wall, breathing deeply, his fists clenched.

He took a deep breath. Leaving had been the act of a coward. He had to go back. He owed both Halen and Hermione an explanation – though he had absolutely no idea what he was going to say.

Just then, Draco heard the bang of the door and quick footsteps. He twisted around just in time to see Halen flash by, running through the corridor with something clutched firmly in his hand. The first thought that sprang to mind was that something had happened to Hermione and Halen was looking for him. He burst through the doors into the room. Hermione was on her hands and knees on the floor next to the bed, her face whiter than before. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but her head snapped up when she heard the door open. Draco started forward to help her up.

"Stop him, get him back!" she yelled.

"What – "

"He took it from me, stop him, he can't see it, he _can't_ – "

"See what?" he asked, completely mystified.

"_He's got my memories of us!_"

Draco paled. Without another word and not even pausing to help her up, he sprinted to his study in pursuit of Halen.

Within moments, he had reached his study and flung the doors wide open, hoping against hope that Halen had took the wrong way…

His heart sank as he saw a blond head disappearing into the silver mass seething inside the Pensieve. He was too late.

Draco plunged into the memories, searching through them for the one Halen was in.

There were a lot of memories. Like the time when she had been told that he would be her new master. Or the time she had lain under him and cried silently. Or the party in the Manor where he had forced her to cry out as he humiliated her publicly…

Though he only stayed in each memory long enough to make sure that Halen wasn't there, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach grew stronger as he glimpsed the past. Merlin, this was the last thing he wanted his son to see…

Moments later, Draco found Halen in what was possibly the worst memory he could have been in – the first time he had raped Hermione.

Draco entered the memory and saw his younger self, standing at the table that she was magically restrained to. He forced himself on her and she screamed.

He turned away from the sickening sight, ready to move on to the next memory when he saw a little boy with blindingly blond hair, shrinking against the wall. Halen's eyes were huge, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the terrible sight. His face was blank, but Draco could see his eyes and knew better than to think he wasn't affected. Halen was too paralysed with horror and repulsion to even show any emotion.

_Dear, sweet Merlin. What have I done?_

Draco swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat and strode over to Halen, gripping him firmly by the arm. Halen made no attempt to resist, still staring with horrified fascination at the scene playing out behind Draco.

They rose up out of the memory and were back in the study. Halen stood where he was, his expression remarkably similar to that of a shell-shocked soldier. Suddenly, he violently wrenched his arm from Draco's grasp as they heard the door open. Hermione stood there, swaying slightly on her feet, her knuckles white as she gripped the doorknob tightly.

She didn't even need to ask whether he had succeeded in stopping Halen. Her son's expression was answer enough.

Hermione started towards them, wanting to take Halen in her arms and comfort him, but she staggered, not yet recovered from her dizziness. Draco instinctively moved to catch her, but Halen was quicker. He leapt forward and cut Draco off, catching hold of Hermione and steadying her. Halen snarled, "_Don't touch my mother!_"

Draco withdrew his hand as though he had been stung.

Hermione looked down at her son through a glaze of tears. What had she done? Halen never ever yelled like that. She felt as though she had completely destroyed the innocent happiness that he had possessed with a single blow.

"Mum, let's get out of here, let's go home," said Halen. He gently pulled her towards the door.

Go home? She could barely walk, and if she tried Disapparating she would probably end up Splinching herself and Halen.

"If she goes out there, she'll collapse again," said Draco coolly.

"Don't even _talk_ to us – "

"Halen." He fell silent, still glaring at his father. "Help me back to the room."

He looked sullen, but supported her as she made her way to the door.

Hermione looked back when they reached the door. Draco was still standing there and watching them, his expression unreadable.

"I'll talk to him," she said.

He stared at her for a moment, then gave a quick, tiny jerk of his head.

Hermione and Halen left the room, walking slowly.

Draco let them go without saying anything. There was nothing to say.

He looked down at the Pensieve. The memories were still swirling in it. "_Evanesco_." They disappeared.

_Merlin. Everything I care about the most is going horribly wrong._

But she had said, _I'll talk to him_. In other words, explain the circumstances to Halen. So she had understood. He felt relief, and another strange feeling that he couldn't quite place. The way she had said it, it was almost as though they stood on the same side. Like they were united.

Draco dropped into his chair and stared at his hands.

* * *

Hermione and Halen reached the room. She dropped on the bed, her body screaming at her. She hadn't realised that she was so weak.

She opened her eyes once the room stopped spinning. Halen was sitting next to her, looking anxious. "Mum, are you all right?"

She went to nod, but stopped since it made her head pound. "Halen, what… what did you see in the Pensieve?"

He looked away, a dull flush creeping over his face. "I saw him and you… I don't know what he was doing but it was in a room with loads of people there and they were watching and laughing. And you were lying on a table and you screamed…"

"Oh," she said, feeling her cheeks turn red.

Halen turned to look at her. "He… how could he do that? It was… it was…" He swallowed and his throat worked. "Why didn't you curse him?"

"They took my wand away – "

"No, I meant why didn't you curse him just now?" Halen interrupted vehemently. "Why isn't he in Azkaban?"

Hermione looked at him for a moment and a tiny sad smile appeared. "Sweetheart, I want you to listen. Just listen and don't interrupt."

Halen looked faintly mutinous but nodded.

"I went to school, to Hogwarts, with your father, Draco Malfoy. We didn't like each other. Then in our seventh year, both of us left school. I went with Harry and Ron to look for the Horcruxes. He became a Death Eater. He was a Death Eater because his parents were Death Eaters."

Halen opened his mouth but Hermione silenced him with an upraised hand.

"I was captured four years later, by a group of Death Eaters. They didn't recognise me as Harry Potter's friend. They thought I was just another prisoner, so they didn't torture me, just… just locked me up."

"Didn't look like that," Halen muttered.

"They did that to all the girls they caught – it's called rape, sweetie. He didn't want to do it, but he had to be there to prove that he was one of them – "

"_Why_?" Halen burst out. "Why couldn't he just tell them he didn't want to do it? Why couldn't he just quit being a Death Eater?"

"Because they would have killed him," Hermione said simply.

"So he did that to you to save his life?" said Halen, nearly spitting the words out. "He's a _coward_."

"No," said Hermione. "He did that to save my life."

"I - what?"

"He did that to save my life," she repeated, slowly and clearly. "If it hadn't been him, it would have been somebody else and that somebody would have hurt me a lot more than he did. And by doing that, he could pretend he wanted to buy me."

"Buy you? Like a slave?"

"Yes," she said. "He took me back to his villa where I met Elvira."

"_Aunt Elvira_?" echoed Halen, stunned. "Did he… did he do that to her too?"

"No. He bought her when she got so scarred they didn't want her anymore. She was going to be killed before he bought her."

"He saved her?" he asked disbelievingly.

"He did."

Halen was silent.

"He left me alone after that. He hid me from his parents and he never called for me unless he had to and he gave me as much freedom as he could. I didn't realise how well he was treating me until I saw another girl at one of the parties. It was… it was terrible, worse than what happened to me. She was screaming…" Hermione stopped and swallowed, forcing the memory away. "After that, I understood."

She looked back at Halen. He was looking sceptical.

"How do you know he didn't want to be there?" asked Halen. "How do you know he didn't like it?"

"He let me use Legilimency on him," said Hermione.

"What's – "

"It's a sort of mind reading – he allowed me to see into his memories."

"But – "

"Halen, I _know _he didn't enjoy it," she said more forcefully.

He didn't say anything.

Hermione took a deep breath and continued. "When people do what he did to me, sometimes the girl gets pregnant. I got pregnant with you. When he found out – "

"_What?_" Halen blurted, horrified. "You mean that women get pregnant because somebody raped them? Uncle Harry raped Aunt Ginny? Uncle Ron raped – "

"No, no," she said hastily. "When people like each other, then it's okay, it's not called rape anymore. Halen, please try not to interrupt. It's hard enough already."

Halen nodded.

"When he found out I was pregnant, he gave me money and a wand and got me out of there. The war was still going on, and if anybody had discovered that I was pregnant, they would have killed me for it and killed him for not killing me. He let Elvira go with me. He saved me, Halen."

"Then if he was so good, why didn't he come to look for us?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know," she said. "I…"

They were interrupted at this point by a creak. The door swung open and a house-elf peered in cautiously. "Pardon Quinny, miss," it squeaked, "Master ordered Quinny to bring food to miss."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Thank you," she said. "Could you put it on the table here?"

"Yes, miss. Quinny is going back to kitchens now."

The house-elf left and the two of them turned to look at the tray. There was so much food on it the tray was slightly bent. Chicken soup sent up spirals of steam from a bowl. A fruit salad rested next to it. Two bowls of savoury stew filled the room with an appetising smell and a loaf of fresh white bread lay next to them. There were other dishes besides those – and they weren't cheap, either.

Hermione felt her appetite coming back for the first time in weeks. She breathed in deeply and reached out for the bread but noticed a small sheet of paper on it and picked that up instead. It read, "Eat."

Just "Eat." Was that all he could find to say? She didn't exactly need his advice on what to do with all that lovely food right in front of her.

She grabbed the bread and dipped it in the stew. It was as lovely as it smelled and she suddenly discovered exactly how hungry she was.

Halen said mulishly, "Maybe he's poisoned it."

The second the food entered her mouth, her mood lightened considerably. "Don't be absurd," she said the moment she could. "Here, try it, the stew's amazing. As good as Elvira's."

"Nobody can cook as well as Aunt Elvira!" Halen exclaimed, momentarily diverted.

She waggled a piece of bread under his nose. "You won't know if you don't try it."

They managed to eat their way through the whole meal, most of it going into Hermione's stomach. When they were done, she leant back, sighing in satisfaction. She hadn't eaten properly in days, if not weeks. A comfortable lethargy began to steal over her, and if the expression on Halen's face was anything to go by, she wasn't the only one.

Halen crawled up onto the bed next to her. "Mum, you still haven't explained properly about Mister," he mumbled sleepily.

She was having difficulty speaking through the enormous yawn that she couldn't control. "When I… when I wake up…"

They fell asleep.

* * *

Harry James Potter, once known as The-Boy-Who-Lived, now termed the Chosen One, and occasionally called The-Man-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die by close friends, was worried.

The Healers had finally found a cure for Ron. They had noted that the effects of the curse were similar to the one which Antonin Dolohov had used during the Battle of Hogwarts, although it seemed to have been slightly modified. Instead of killing immediately, it seemed meant to hold off the victim's death for a day while keeping him in constant, excruciating pain. All their potions only served to prolong the length of time Ron remained alive. They had experimented with many different variations on the original potions Madam Pomfrey had used to cure Hermione and had finally – through sheer luck – found the right ones.

Ron was definitely on the road to recovery. However, since he now spent half of his time having potions forced down his throat by either Lavender or the Healers and the other half yelling for somebody to help him to the toilet, it wasn't much of an improvement, as he grumpily told Harry.

Harry couldn't help laughing.

Still, he was worried. When the Healers had first reported to him that they thought they had found the cure though they would need time to be sure that Ron was responding favourably, he had hidden it from Ginny, Hermione and Lavender, not wanting to raise false hopes. Once they had confirmed it, he had sent off an owl to Hermione and Lavender, and told Ginny. Needless to say, Ginny was furious that he had not told her earlier, but was in too much of a rush to check on Ron to scold him for too long. Lavender rushed there too with Rose and Hugo, and they had the satisfaction of seeing him thoroughly lucid and much more himself. But strangely, Hermione had not replied. It had been a whole day already; surely the owl would have reached her by then? Had something happened to her? Ron was beginning to ask where she was, and Harry, not wanting to worry him, had told him that she was caught up in something and would come to see him when he was discharged.

It was unfortunate that a Healer chose that moment to say, "You have been responding particularly well, Mr Weasley. I think you can be discharged tonight."

Harry went to the Owlery and sent off another urgent owl to Hermione. There was still no reply.

Yes, he was definitely worried now.

Finally, night arrived and they – they being Harry, Ginny, Lavender, Rose and Hugo – were standing outside the entrance to St Mungo's. Ron was in a rather bad mood, having just taken a particularly disgusting potion. "Well, where's Hermione?" he asked impatiently.

"Relax, Ron," Lavender said soothingly. "She's probably on her way. Ginny, help me hold some of the potions, will you?"

Ginny obligingly took some off her hands. Ron automatically moved to help Lavender, but she slapped his hands away. "You're not supposed to do anything, Ron, you're still recovering."

"I've been discharged, Lavender. I'm not an invalid."

"Just don't, all right? I can handle it. You shouldn't overstrain yourself."

Ron didn't reply, staring out into the deepening darkness. Harry glanced at his watch then looked away, frowning. Ron caught it.

"Harry, what's up?" he asked bluntly.

Harry started. "What d'you mean, what's up?" he said, stalling.

"Something's happened to Hermione, is that it?"

Lavender looked up, frowning. "Surely not?" she said. "What could happen?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow, staring at Harry.

"I just… I'm not sure…"

"Harry…" Ginny said warningly. "You'd better not be doing that I'll-hide-something-from-them-so-they-won't-worry thing, because I've already told you about that."

"Have there been any threats against her or something?" asked Ron.

"No, none. Except…"

"Except what?" demanded Ron.

Harry sighed. "You know that I've had people check up on Halen's new friend?"

"His new fairy godfather, you mean?" said Ron.

"Yeah, that's the one. I was informed a while back that he's none other than Draco Malfoy."

"_What_?" exclaimed three different voices.

"Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell her?" demanded Ginny.

"Obviously, he doesn't mean to harm either of them, otherwise he'd have done it long ago," said Harry defensively. "And, well, I thought it's between them, isn't it?"

Ginny laughed. "Glad to see you're finally developing some tact."

"But… you think that maybe he's done something to them now?" asked Lavender.

Ron's face looked like a thundercloud. "He'd better not have," he said darkly.

"Don't agitate yourself, Ron," Lavender said in the voice she used to put Hugo to bed with. She shot a reproachful look at Harry, who shrugged helplessly.

"I don't think he's done anything," he said. "I'm just saying, perhaps they might be together, trying to sort things out now. Hermione would have told us where she was otherwise."

"Is Malfoy living in his manor now?" asked Ron, ignoring Harry's attempt to reassure him.

"Yeah."

"All right, let's go."

"I'm coming with you," Ginny said firmly. "Rose, Hugo, help your mother hold some of the potions."

"Ron…"

"Lavender, I'm fine, really. Relax, all right? Take the kids home. I'll be back soon."

"At least take this potion with you, you're supposed to take it within the next hour."

"Will do."

"Don't forget it –"

But Ron, Ginny and Harry had already Disapparated.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's Master. Absolutely freaking _awesome _story, go read it (it's in my favourites) or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story. The story is going to be as clean as I can make it and that includes adult themes and swearing.**

**Oh, and I added a short bit at the end of Chapter 7. I don't know why I didn't put it there in the first place. Must have been sleep deprived. **

* * *

Twilight cloaked the manor. Inside, the door to the bedroom swung open, and Draco entered the room. He saw them lying on the bed, sleeping soundly. Already, there was more colour in Hermione's cheeks than before. Yes, there was nothing wrong with her except exhaustion.

He stood there for a moment, looking down at them and something stirred within him. They looked so peaceful. Hermione's hair was spread out over the pillow and her arm was wrapped around Halen, who was sprawled on his back, boy fashion.

Draco gently tucked Hermione's hand back into the covers and turned to leave, but as he did so, he caught sight of Halen stirring. He opened his eyes and looked around, rubbing his eyes as he remembered where he was. When his eyes fell on Draco, his expression darkened and he turned away. The slight movement made Hermione stir in her sleep.

"Don't wake her up," Draco said.

"I don't need you to tell me how to look after my mother," Halen said flatly.

There was a silence.

"What has your mother told you?" Draco finally asked.

"She said that what you did to her was called rape."

Another silence.

"Did she say anything else?" he said.

Halen finally turned around to look at him. "You must have tricked her, but I'm not going to be tricked."

His voice had grown louder and Hermione moved her head restlessly on her pillow. They both glanced towards her. Making a quick decision, Draco reached over and pulled Halen to his feet.

Halen squirmed in his grasp. "Let me go!" he hissed furiously, still trying to keep his voice down.

"I don't want to wake your mother up," he said coolly, "and that's exactly what we're going to do if we stay here any longer. Come."

Draco hauled a still protesting Halen out of the room and to his study, closing the door behind him with a snap.

"What do you think I tricked her about?" he asked, sitting down in his chair. He gestured for Halen to do the same but he stubbornly remained standing, glaring at him.

"You made her think that you didn't want to do it," said Halen, "but nobody was forcing you to. You could have grabbed Mum and Disapparated and you wouldn't have to do anything to her."

"There were ways of tracking those who had the Mark. And if I hadn't done it, another man would have and hurt her more – "

"That's what Mum said, but how would you know?" interrupted Halen, his voice rising.

"Do you know who were the others in the room?"

Halen didn't answer.

"They were Death Eaters," said Draco.

"Like you," Halen flashed. "Did you torture other people too because someone else would have done it if you didn't?"

Draco's grey eyes darkened. Halen looked half defiant, half wary as though unsure if he had crossed an invisible line. The silence in the room seemed to solidify.

Halen's words cut deep. Yes, he had been a Death Eater, but he hadn't known what he was getting into when he'd joined. But his son couldn't seem to understand, couldn't stop holding it against him. His words suddenly unlocked a flood of memories that he had been trying to suppress for years. Faces of those he had tortured and killed swam before his mind's eye – a red haired, freckled one prominent among them. His jaw clenched involuntarily.

Eventually he said, "I did."

Shock spread across Halen's face.

"You want to know what else I did?" he said calmly. "I attended more parties like the one you saw. I held parties when it was my turn to host. I killed Muggles when the Dark Lord ordered me to."

He was speaking less calmly and more quickly now, the words coming in a flood. He had never spoken of his past to anybody before and suddenly he wanted his son to know the worst of him. "I tortured people. I used the Unforgivable Curses when I had to. And I was the one who tortured and killed Fred Weasley."

Draco was almost yelling by the time Fred Weasley's name left his mouth. He found himself on his feet and, unable to bear being still any longer, began to pace the room.

Halen's eyes were wide in horror. "Fred Weasley?" he whispered. "Uncle Ron's brother? It was _you_?"

He whirled around. "Yes, it was me," he said savagely.

Draco saw that tears had begun to form in Halen's eyes. "Mum said you were a good man," he said miserably. "I thought you were a hero, even if you didn't care about us. I wish… I wish you weren't my dad."

He spoke more gently. "Do you know why I did that?"

"No, and I don't care!" Halen yelled, suddenly furious. "Don't try to give excuses – "

"They could have killed both me and my parents," he said.

Halen stopped abruptly. Then he said, "But I thought… I thought your parents were Death Eaters?"

"They don't work like that," he said harshly. "The Dark Lord was not forgiving. My father was in disgrace. I was his only son. If I had told them I didn't want to be one of them anymore, they would have killed me and maybe my parents. If I had escaped with your mother, they would definitely have killed my parents – after they had tracked us down and killed us."

Draco knelt down next to Halen, gripping him by the shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. "Halen, I want you to know, I didn't want to do it. Any of it."

The anger had completely disappeared from Halen's face for the first time since he had woken up. He looked at Draco with troubled grey eyes.

"I want to tell you, I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you. I'm sorry I had to make your mother leave when she became pregnant with you. I'm sorry I couldn't provide for you."

Halen gazed back at him. Slowly, he nodded. "I… I want to think for a while," he said.

The door swung open and Hermione stepped into the room. "We need to talk," she said without preamble, looking straight at Draco. "Halen, I want you to go to the room now, please."

Lost in thought, Halen nodded almost absently and left, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Draco had stiffened when she entered the room. He stood up and turned away from her. Why did she want to talk _now_? He still didn't know what to say, even though nothing else had been occupying his thoughts for the past few hours. What he needed to explain to her was terribly important and he was terrified of messing it up. He wasn't prepared for this, he wasn't ready…

Hermione had woken up and saw that Halen was gone. Feeling a lot better, she got out of bed and wandered around the Manor, looking for him. She heard voices coming from the study. She listened for a moment and she softened. He was trying to explain the past to Halen and she felt sorry for him. Still, there were questions left unanswered and she wasn't going to let them remain that way. She opened the door and entered. She was willing to listen calmly, even if the end result was finding out that he didn't want anything to do with her. She would try to understand so long as he just explained himself….

Then Hermione saw him turning away, his face expressionless, and suddenly felt a hot wave of anger surge up, surprising in its intensity. What, he couldn't even bear to look at her now? Well, he was going to have to get over it. She was tired of not knowing, tired of stifling the questions seething inside her, and _sick _and tired of feeling as though there was something missing in her life. She wanted answers, and come hell or high water, she was going to get them – today – even if she had to use the Cruciatus Curse on him. Right now, anything that would get rid of that expressionless look on his face seemed like an excellent idea. Even if it was replaced with one of pain. She thought she could handle seeing him scream, come to think of it.

"Malfoy, I want answers." Her voice was cold, even to her ears.

He didn't turn around. "Answers to what?"

"Why didn't you come to look for us when the war ended? Where were you when I was struggling to bring Halen up? Where were you when Halen needed a father? Where were you when _I_ needed – _Malfoy, turn around and face me like a man, damn you_!"

He did and she took a savage delight in seeing that there were faint lines of tension around his eyes. "I wanted to," he said hoarsely.

"Don't you – don't you dare give me that load of dung!" she shouted. "You couldn't've really wanted to, could you, or you'd have managed it, don't tell me you didn't have any contacts – "

"Contacts?" he said, and he laughed hollowly. "Who did you think I could ask? Draco Malfoy, known former Death Eater, asking around in the Ministry for the whereabouts of one of the Golden Trio, they'd have thought I wanted to murder you… and you didn't need me turning up and ruining your life…"

"CONVENIENT EXCUSE, ISN'T IT?_ DIDN'T NEED YOU _– DO YOU KNOW WHAT I'VE GONE THROUGH, TRYING TO RAISE HALEN WITHOUT A FATHER? DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S BEEN LIKE FOR HIM, I'VE SEEN HIM WATCHING OTHER KIDS WITH THEIR DADS, BUT ALL YOU'LL DO IS TAKE HIM OUT, WON'T TELL HIM THAT YOU'RE HIS FATHER, WON'T TELL _ME_ THAT – "

Hermione stopped abruptly, staring at him as though she had never seen him before.

"So that's it, then," she said softly. "That's why you've been taking him out, trying to become a part of his life. You wanted your son, your _heir_," she said it like a dirty swear word, "but not his Mudblood mother."

"_No_," he said vehemently, taking an involuntary step towards her.

"No?" she said, anger and scepticism blending together. "No? But you'll talk to him, you'll take him out, you'll buy him whatever he wants, you'll explain everything to him but you won't talk to me unless you have to, you won't even look at me…" To her dismay, she heard bitterness in her voice and found tears pouring down her cheeks.

"Merlin, don't," he said, taking another step towards her, his voice sounding constricted. "It's not… it's not like that…"

"Oh, yeah?" she said in a choked voice, wiping angrily at her tears. "Then what? You treat me like I've got the plague… left us alone for eleven years…"

"I couldn't look for you straight away," he said. "There were things I needed to deal with – "

"Things more important than us?" she asked bitterly.

"I had to deal with everything I did during the war," he said harshly. "You think it was easy, living with what I'd done? Remembering Weasley's face and the way his… his eyes went blank? You think it's easy, remembering your scream when I – "

He stopped abruptly.

"I thought it was too late afterwards."

"That's your excuse for abandoning us for eleven years? Because you thought it was too late?" She was still furious. "It's _pathetic_ and you know it!"

"I told you not to expect anything from me, Granger."

"You – you didn't mean it."

"What could I have given you?" he said. "What can I give you? I'll give you whatever money you need, but what else do you want from me?" _What do I have to give you? What could I, _I, _Draco Malfoy, possibly have to offer you?_

All of a sudden, she wanted to throw something at him and was thankful that most of the furniture around was too heavy for her to lift.

"Damn you, Draco Malfoy," she said softly, bitterly. "Damn you to hell." And she turned and left the room.

Draco let himself lean against the wall as he watched the door swing shut. He had messed it up royally, just as he knew he would. Everything seemed to go wrong with what he cared about most – Halen and the memories, and now this. Feeling lost and bewildered and helpless, he closed his eyes for a second. Her furious, tearstained face seemed burned into his memory. Briefly, he wondered if he should leave her alone, give her some time to cool off, but decided that he had left her alone long enough. He had just begun to move towards the door when he heard her scream.

He had no memory of reaching the door, or flinging it open, or pulling his wand out. He did, however, remember reaching the hall of the Manor and seeing Dolohov stride towards him, his arm pinning Hermione to his side and his wand pointing directly at her throat.


	9. Chapter 9

****

A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's Master. Absolutely freaking _awesome _story, go read it, it's in my favourites, or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story. The story is going to be as clean as I can make it and that includes adult themes and swearing.

Okay, I'm sorry I took so long to update. Things have been incredibly busy - my school choir just went to Austria (me included) for the World Choir Games (sort of like Choir Olympics, really) and we got a GOLD! And then three days after we came back, we had our tests. Charming. Now that's my idea of a reward. The last two tests were today - Physics and Maths. Both of which I detest.

**Anyway, if you're only ever going to review this thing once, please review this chapter. I'm not completely satisfied with it, and I'd like to know if it lived up to your expectations. XD**

* * *

"How much money do you have in the house, Draco?" Dolohov demanded. "I've got to leave the country as soon as possible. Managed to knock Dawlish out and grab his wand as I was being escorted to my trial."

"Let her go, Antonin," Draco said almost calmly.

Dolohov shook his head. "I need her. She's a Ministry witch sent to check up on you, right? She'll do as a hostage if the Aurors catch up with me."

"Let her go," repeated Draco, more loudly this time.

"Get all the money you can, right now," said Dolohov, ignoring him completely. "They should discover Dawlish soon. I don't know how long I have before they think to come here."

Hermione's eyes were wide with fear. She struggled with Dolohov, but he only frowned in irritation and jabbed the wand into the hollow of her throat. She choked. "Don't make me hurt you, woman," he hissed. "Not yet."

"I said, _let her go_."

Draco was now pointing his wand directly at Dolohov.

"Malfoy, are you crazy?" Dolohov asked incredulously. "What is she to you?"

"Let her go right now and I won't turn you over to the Aurors," said Draco. "You don't need a hostage."

Dolohov stared at him. "Malfoy…"

Just then, Halen ran out of his room and into the hall. "Mum! Are you all-"

Dolohov snapped around to look at the new arrival. Halen skidded to a halt and his voice died away as he saw his mother standing with a wandtip pressed to her throat. His mouth opened in a silent gasp.

Unable to turn around, Hermione caught a glimpse of Halen standing behind her in a mirror. Her heart leapt in terror. If anything happened to Halen…

Draco's nails dug into his palm. If Dolohov harmed either one of them, he would track him down and kill him in the slowest way possible.

Dolohov stared at Halen – Halen, with his white blond hair and grey eyes – then slowly turned his head to look at Draco. The air seemed to crackle.

" 'Mum'? " he said softly.

Draco's knuckles were white around the handle of his wand.

"Well, well, well," Dolohov said silkily, softly. "What _have _you been up to, Draco?" Releasing Hermione only to grab her by the hair, he jerked her around so she faced him, still keeping his wandtip at her throat. Involuntary tears sprang to her eyes and she cried out as a few strands parted company with her scalp.

She saw recognition dawn in Dolohov's eyes. "Potter's Mudblood friend, I see. I thought you had better taste, Draco. Your father would be _so_ disappointed. His only son went and got a Mudblood pregnant and," he glanced at Halen, "here's the result."

"Get your hands off her _now,_ Dolohov!" shouted Draco.

"Not a chance, Malfoy," snapped Dolohov. "She's my ticket out of here. Get whatever gold you have together now and I won't hurt the boy."

Hermione struggled again and he hauled her close to him, their bodies pressed closely together, his arm now around her throat. Dolohov pointed his wand towards Halen. "Don't make me hurt him, Malfoy," he snarled. "I'll do it, I don't need him."

Draco froze. He couldn't risk doing anything while Dolohov had Hermione and Halen helpless. For once, he was in a position to protect them and he failed them miserably.

"All right," he forced himself to say calmly. "I'll go to Gringotts – "

"And stop by the Ministry on the way." Dolohov sneered. "I'm not an idiot. You just get whatever you have right now and leave your wand right here."

"I don't have anything in the house right now – "

"Who do you think you're fool-"

Suddenly, Hermione punched back with her elbow, hitting Dolohov viciously in the gut. He gasped as the air left his lungs in a whoosh.

"Halen, run!" she screamed, now trying to free herself and wrench the wand from his hand. But Halen only stood there, frozen to the spot.

Draco yelled, "_Expelliarmus_!" Yet somehow, despite defending himself from Hermione, Dolohov managed to scream, "_Protego_!" quickly enough. He grabbed Hermione by the throat, squeezing ruthlessly, and she gasped for air. In desperation, she seized his other hand, the one holding the wand, and sank her teeth into it savagely. He howled in pain and his grip slackened. She finally managed to tear herself free.

"Hermione!" Instinctively, she looked around at Draco's shout and ran to him. Draco caught her and thrust her behind him, shielding her with his own body.

"I WILL NOT GO TO AZKABAN AGAIN!" bellowed Dolohov in fury, his wand pointing wildly from Hermione to Draco and back to Hermione again.

Draco tried to Stun him, then attempted to Disarm him again, but Dolohov had not evaded capture for over a decade for nothing and he remained thoroughly conscious and his wand stayed firmly clutched in his hand.

"It's over, Dolohov," said Draco. He had to keep him talking, otherwise he might look around and see Halen standing behind him, completely unprotected. Behind him, he felt Hermione frantically making tiny gestures to Halen, trying to tell him to get out of the room. Unfortunately, Dolohov noticed as well. He whirled around just as Halen, finally recovering from his shock, nodded and began to edge away.

"Don't you dare take another step, boy!" snarled Dolohov, hate thickening his voice. "You'll pay for this, Malfoy! I'll kill them!"

Now his wand point shifted erratically between all three of them.

Hermione was terrified that Dolohov would hurt someone. She felt incredibly helpless and vulnerable without her wand… her wand! Where was it? Her heart sank. Halen had taken it – it was probably still somewhere in the study…

Draco was still trying to keep Dolohov's attention on him. "There's still time. The Aurors aren't here yet. You still can leave, Antonin."

"I'm not leaving without a hostage! I'm warning you, give me the Mudblood and I'll leave you your son!"

Merlin, what could she do? What could she do?

"Malfoy!"

Draco saw Dolohov take a deep breath and time seemed to slow to a crawl.

He didn't know whom Dolohov would curse first. There was only one option left.

"_Protego_!" he yelled, his wand pointing at Halen. A silver shield shot from his wand and enveloped Halen as he pushed Hermione roughly to the ground, hoping that his own body would cover her.

A red jet of light shot towards him and struck him squarely in the chest. Hermione's scream echoed in his ears as he felt himself hit the ground.

He thought he heard a lot of shouting. He tried to focus on her face, but she was moving out of his field of vision and he couldn't see her. Dimly, he thought, _Useless fool. You can't even protect her or Halen._

Now her face hovered over his as something flew overhead. She was crying, her mouth moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. Another face came into his sightline, but he could only make out red hair and freckles. Voices were sounding around him.

_So you've come to fetch me to the afterlife, have you, Fred Weasley?_ He wasn't sure if he mumbled it or only thought it.

Weasley was saying something and Hermione looked up at him. Strange. He would have thought that she wouldn't be able to see him. Now she was talking to him, sounding desperate. There was definitely something strange going on here, but he couldn't really be bothered because there was darkness eating away at his vision and there was something he had to tell her but couldn't, because the pain was terrible and he felt himself slipping away…

* * *

Hermione saw the spell hit Draco and he collapsed. She screamed piercingly, scrambling desperately for his wand, knowing that all their lives depended on her getting to the wand in time, but it had slipped out of Draco's slackened grasp and rolled a few metres away…

She had almost reached it when a boot slammed down on her hand, and she cried out in pain and despair. She yanked her hand out from under Dolohov's boot. He stepped towards her and bared his teeth in the smile of a hunter who has cornered his prey. She stared up at him, completely defenceless.

At that point in time, the main door burst open and three figures appeared in the doorway.

Dolohov instinctively twisted around and Harry, recognising the situation immediately, roared, "_Stupefy_!" Nor was he the only one. Three jets of light struck Dolohov and he flew backwards and struck the wall behind, thankfully missing Hermione. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Hermione barely even noticed Harry, Ron, and Ginny once Dolohov was dispatched. She let out one sobbing breath of relief, crawled back to Draco and cradled his head in her arms, his pale, rigid face blurred by her tears. "Draco… _Draco_…please, don't…no…_no_…"

Ginny ran to Hermione and Draco, falling on her knees next to them. "Is he dead?" she asked.

"I don't know, I don't know!" Hermione cried. "Draco!"

Ron and Harry strode over. "He's still breathing," said Harry.

"Looks like Dolohov hit him with the same thing that he got me with," said Ron clinically. He was standing almost directly over Draco, whose eyes were now half closed. His breathing was very weak. As Ron spoke, his eyes fluttered open for a second, looking dazed. They closed almost immediately again, as though his eyelids were too heavy for him to keep open, and he murmured something, of which the words 'afterlife' and 'Fred' were distinguishable, which made no sense at all.

Hermione snapped up to look at Ron with a desperate hope dawning in her eyes. "You're healed!" she said wildly. "What did the Healers do? Can you do it?"

"They found the cure, yeah, but you need to do the spell immediately, otherwise you're stuck taking fourteen different potions a day, and they're all absolutely foul," said Ron.

"Can you do it?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Ron, please!"

"Ronald," snarled Ginny, "get with it."

"This's Malfoy –"

"So you're just going to let him die?" asked Harry coolly.

Ron looked like he was about to say something harsh, but he shrugged. He pointed his wand at Draco and said something that Hermione didn't catch. The grimace of pain on Draco's face seemed to lessen slightly and his breathing was less harsh. Ron did it again, and again, until the lines of pain had disappeared and his breathing was faint, but steady.

At some point, Halen had made his way over to stand next to Hermione. "Is he going to die?" he asked in a near whisper, his eyes huge.

Hermione blinked her tears away, staring intently into Draco's face. "Ron, is he?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not. He should be out of danger now, more's the pity," said Ron. Harry elbowed him in the ribs, none too gently. Ron winced.

He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then reached into his robes and pulled out a bottle. "You'd better get this down his throat. I was supposed to take that," he added. "Now I'll have to go back to St Mungo's again. Malfoy, if you can hear me, you owe me big."

Hermione grabbed the bottle and uncorked it. Lifting Draco's head, she pried his mouth open and poured it into his mouth.

Draco choked, swallowed, and opened his eyes.

"Draco! Draco, talk to me. How're you feeling? Does it still hurt?"

He blinked once, twice, and his eyes focused on her. There was something he needed to tell her, he remembered. "I was afraid," he whispered.

"There's no need to be, Dolohov's out cold, I'll get you to St Mungo's, you'll be fine…" She knew she was babbling, but she didn't care.

"I…wasafraid," he repeated.

"No, don't… everything will be okay…"

"Of your reaction."

"What?"

He coughed again.

"I didn't go to… to look for you because I was afraid. Afraid that you… you would curse me…tell me to get out of your life… that it was impossible between us… afraid I'd find you married…"

Hermione found herself crying uncontrollably. Her emotions were thoroughly messed up after all she had gone through.

Ginny stood up, the corners of her mouth twitching as though she was trying to suppress a smile. Strangely, though, her eyes sparkled with sudden tears. "Harry, Ron, let's get out of here," she said softly. "Halen, come along. Your parents need some time alone."

Ron stood his ground. "What's the matter?" he said, cocking an eyebrow at Ginny. "It's only Malfoy."

"Ronald Weasley, you have the sensitivity of a teacup. Now get moving," Ginny hissed, giving him a slight shove towards the door. "Harry, grab Dolohov, will you?"

"Oh… oh yeah, right," said Harry, evidently having forgotten about Dolohov. He waved his wand carelessly and said, "_Incarcerous_." Ropes sprang out and wrapped themselves around Dolohov. A murmured "_Mobilicorpus_" later, Dolohov hovered in the air and moved towards the door. As he passed by, Harry neatly removed the wand from Dolohov's nerveless grasp and stuck it in his pocket. Dolohov's head banged rather forcefully into the doorway, but Harry didn't seem to notice as he exited the hall, closing the door firmly behind him. Ginny, Ron and Halen had already left.

Neither Hermione nor Draco had noticed them leaving.

"I'm… I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I was a coward."

"You… you stupid… stupid git, you…" She was crying so hard she was actually hiccuping slightly.

"I'm so sorry," he said again, closing his eyes as though unable to look at her anymore.

With a huge effort, she managed to get her crying under control. "You idiot," she said unsteadily, half laughing through her tears. "Didn't you know…"

His eyes snapped open. "Know what?"

"Do you know what Halen's full name is?"

He shook his head slightly.

"His name is Halen Drew Granger. Drew means 'man', and Halen… Halen means 'dragon'. I… I named him for his father."

Draco was very still, his eyes on her.

"You're a man through and through, Draco Malfoy. A good man. I… I would never – could never have fallen in love with anyone less."

Those grey eyes, normally so calm, swirled with a storm of emotions.

"In love?" he whispered. "_Hermione_…" and suddenly she was pulled down and their lips met for the first time in eleven years.

It felt so right, so deliciously _right_. Everything around her seemed to disappear. She forgot everything, forgot that he was injured, forgot that they were in the hall of Malfoy Manor, even forgot that she was Hermione Granger. There was just him and her, him and her, and nothing – absolutely, gloriously nothing – but him and her...

Finally, they broke the kiss. Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she found herself staring up at him. Sometime during the kiss, they had rolled over and she was now pinned under him.

Draco was gazing down at her with a wealth of tenderness in his eyes. He gently touched her now swollen lips, tracing them with his thumb.

She looked up at him and she smiled. Then she laughed.

"What's the matter?" he asked, half smiling too.

"You recover pretty quickly, Draco Malfoy."

"You're the best cure, Hermione Granger."

She cocked an eyebrow. "That's soppy," she said teasingly. "I would've thought a Malfoy would have been more sophisticated than that."

"We are, but I decided to go for the truthful angle this time," he whispered, and kissed her again.

Once she could speak again, she said, "You should go to St Mungo's, you know."

"I really don't care," he said – and kissed her again. Unconsciously, her arms went around his neck and her fingers threaded through his silky blonde hair.

The kiss lasted for even longer this time, and they were both breathing hard when it ended. They pulled apart slightly.

"I love you, Hermione Jean Granger," he said softly, intensely. "Don't doubt that. Don't you _ever_ doubt that."

"I know," she whispered back. "I love you too."

"Marry me. Say you'll marry me." He kissed her yet again. "Say you'll let me take care of you and Halen for the rest of your life. Let me love you and protect you and be a father to our son. You'll never need to worry about anything ever again. Marry me, Hermione."

"Yes," she said. "Yes, of course I'll marry you."

She saw his grey eyes glow with sheer joy and this time she was the one to pull him down for another kiss.

* * *

**This is _not _the end. Remember what the title of this story is? It's not just about Draco and Hermione. It's about Draco making peace with his past and finding redemption. It's not enough to say, Hey, I've got a (happy) family and ignore the rest of the world.**

**Besides, a part of me can't bear to end this thing.**

**Oh, about Halen's name? I swear it really does mean dragon. Unless that translation website lied to me. Cue emotional trauma. XD**

**And, please review this chapter. This is the only time I've ever said that. I really want feedback on this chapter in particular, good or bad. This is basically the climax of the whole story. The rest is kind of extended epilogue.**

**Writing climaxes to your whole story is just plain scary.**

**And a little behind the scenes information: I was _so_ tempted to leave you with a horrible cliffhanger. :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's Master. Absolutely freaking _awesome_ story, go read it (it's in my favourites) or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story.**

**Sorry for the long wait. It's been so long I've almost forgotten how to upload. I've been working on a whole bunch of other stories, and there was this scene that was an absolute pain in the fill-in-the-blank to write, but it's finally written! So the story's completed and will be uploaded shortly. Pretend you've read the obligatory plea to review.**

* * *

Outside, four people were cooling their heels in the grounds. One in particular was looking distinctly disgruntled. "Since when is she on first name terms with Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"Since a few minutes ago, obviously," said Ginny.

Ron made no response, kicking a stone across the lawn. "What's going on with them?" he burst out a few moments later. "Hermione isn't making any sense at all."

"What're you talking about?" Harry asked lazily.

"Hermione, of course! She's not making any sense at all! If I'd gotten –" Ron cut himself off abruptly, turning red.

"Go on," said Harry, grinning. "If what?"

"If I were a woman, you know…" Ron gestured a bit helplessly.

"No, we don't," said Ginny innocently. "What are we supposed to know?"

Harry couldn't help laughing. Ron ploughed on determinedly even while his ears began to match his hair. "If I were a woman and I got, well, raped, I wouldn't care if the guy lived or died. No, actually, I would mind it if the guy was still alive."

Ginny glanced at Halen. Thankfully, he didn't seem to be listening to their conversation. Good. She wasn't sure what he knew and if he didn't know, he should find out from his parents, not them.

"But Hermione's actually crying over him! What's up with her?"

With great difficulty, Ginny restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "You never learn, do you?"

"There's obviously something that she hasn't told us about," said Harry. "Couldn't you tell?"

"Tell from what?" demanded Ron. "She hasn't said a word about him since that time she turned up after the war carrying Halen."

"And you never noticed the way she sometimes stares at Halen as though she's seeing someone else?" said Ginny. "Never noticed the way her eyes go soft, then fill with tears that she quickly blinks away so nobody will see? Or the way she stiffens and goes silent whenever you start abusing Malfoy?"

"Even I noticed, mate," added Harry.

"You did?" said Ron suspiciously.

"I thought it was pretty obvious, actually." Ginny elbowed him in the ribs. "Okay, it was pretty obvious after Ginny said something about it," he amended.

"Thanks for mentioning it to me," said Ron sarcastically.

"Ron, it's between them, all right?" said Ginny. "Just let them sort it out."

She glanced back at the doors again. "If they do get together, Malfoy won't be getting any threats, will he?" she said pointedly over her shoulder.

"Together?" Ron said incredulously. "Hermione and _him_?"

"People change, Ron. I think he has."

"So you're going to welcome him with open arms, are you?" Ron said loudly.

"If he means what I think he means to Hermione, then I at least won't hex him," Ginny said simply.

"Have you forgotten what he's done?" demanded Ron, his voice rising even more. "Who he killed?"

"No, I haven't," said Ginny, a sharp edge to her voice.

"Take it easy, mate," Harry said, stepping in between them and placing a hand on Ron's shoulder.

Ron shook it off. "I'm not giving a murderer a hug and a kiss and a 'Oh, don't worry about it, it was nothing.' "

"Are you saying that I don't care that he killed Fred?" shouted Ginny.

"You sure as _hell_ are acting like that!"

"You – "

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Ginny and Ron both snapped around to glare at Harry, who was now holding their wands.

"Just in case," he said lightly. "I don't like visiting St Mungo's all that much."

Ginny's eyes were blazing as she turned back to Ron. "Ronald Weasley, don't you _ever _say that again."

Ron began to speak but Ginny cut him off. "You just shut up and listen now."

He shut his mouth and glowered.

"I hate Fred's murderer. But there's more to Malfoy than that. The judge ruled that there was a possibility that he had been forced to do all that. Harry, you know that, you know what you saw during the war."

Harry nodded silently.

"And Hermione loves him. He's the father of her son. I think she deserves happiness. For her sake, I'm willing to not make things difficult for them. I'm not going to," her voice dripped sarcasm, "_give him a hug and a kiss_, but I won't curse him into next week. And if you call yourself her friend, you'll do the same."

There was a silence. Then Ron said, "If he messes her up, then I'm definitely going after him."

Ginny almost smiled. "I'll be right behind you."

* * *

An hour later, a tentative knock sounded at the main door. When no answer came, Ginny knocked more forcefully. When there was still no answer, she finally called, "Hermione! I'm coming in!"

She opened the door and stepped in. She couldn't see any sign of them. Ginny sighed, and walked through the corridors of Malfoy Manor, hoping that she wouldn't get lost.

Finally, she found them in a bedroom. Thankfully – she breathed a sigh of relief – they still had their clothes on. They were sleeping, Malfoy's arm wrapped around Hermione's shoulders while she snuggled into him. Hermione must have helped him up here and then collapsed on the bed. They looked so peaceful that Ginny hated to wake them up, but she knew she had to.

"Hermione!" she said, switching on the lights. "Hermione, wake up. Malfoy, get your lazy rear end out of bed. Ron says that you'd better get to St Mungo's soon."

Hermione yawned, and rolled over. Malfoy's arm tightened around her. She opened her eyes blearily. "Ginny?" she said, sounding groggy. "Whassa matter?"

"Ron says you've got to get Malfoy to St Mungo's soon," Ginny repeated patiently. Hermione was immediately fully awake. She glanced around to Malfoy. He did seem paler than usual, but he was still breathing.

"Right," Hermione said. "St Mungo's. Okay." She leant over and shook him gently. "Draco, wake up. You've got to go."

"Hermione?" he mumbled sleepily. "What…"

"You've got to go to St Mungo's," she said more urgently. "Come on, Draco, you can sleep when you get there."

He groaned and covered his eyes with his forearm.

Eventually, they managed to get him there. Harry took Dolohov back to Azkaban while Ron went home, bringing Halen with him – Ginny had insisted on it. Hermione and Ginny brought Draco to St Mungo's, where the Healers examined him. They said he would be all right thanks to prompt action, but they would keep him for a couple of days for observation, just in case. He needed rest for at least a week, and probably would have to take a minimum of three potions a day, they added.

The Healers gave Draco a Sleeping Draught and he fell asleep almost instantly. In the middle of the night, he woke briefly and couldn't recognise his surroundings. He lifted his hand to grope for his wand, but realised that there was something in his hand, something warm and soft. Raising his head, Draco saw Hermione, her head resting on her folded arms, which was in turn resting on his bed in what must have been a supremely uncomfortable position. He was holding her hand; or rather, she was holding his. Smiling slightly, he let his head fall back onto the pillow and drifted off into sleep again.

* * *

**Uh, yeah. Story still not over. Probably about another two to three more chapters.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Wow, can't believe it's been what, four months since I last updated. Not gonna promise anything about regular updates anymore, since I'm only going to break them, and anyway there isn't much left. School's crazy at the moment, c-r-a-z-y. Imagine your own disclaimer.**

**EDIT: Just realised I left out a memory when I was editing! D: Go see if you can find out which one it is :P but it should be pretty obvious.**

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* * *

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_**Two months later…**_

"Malfoy."

"Potter. What did you want to see me for?"

"Come in."

Draco stepped into the home of Harry Potter. He looked around. It was lovely, he had to admit. It looked warm and inviting and _homely_. It didn't have the cold stylishness of the Manor, but he was willing to bet it was a lot easier to live in. The walls were plastered with a lot of photographs: his family, his children, he and his wife, a couple of wedding shots, baby pictures, some with Weasley and Hermione… there were even some with people he took a moment to recognise as Longbottom and Lovegood. One in particular caught his eye – Rita Skeeter's face was stuck on a dartboard, and it was full of holes.

Potter noticed him staring. "The kids like to play darts," he said, shrugging. "And Ginny wasn't feeling very friendly towards the woman after the article about Luna came out, so... oh, have a seat. Drinks?"

"I'm fine, thanks." He hesitated, then asked, "Why are you being so polite?"

Potter stopped acting the host and sat down across him. He glanced down at his hands for a moment. "I'm doing this because I think there's no reason for us to act like we're back in Hogwarts. Because we've both grown up. Because I think we've seen enough of the war, enough of hatred. Because this involves Hermione's happiness. And I think it's better if she doesn't catch us duelling," he added.

Draco half smiled. "I wonder who she'll hex first."

Potter smiled too. There was a momentary awkward silence as they both suddenly registered the fact that they were sitting down, having a civil conversation, and actually smiling.

"Right," said Potter, and cleared his throat. "There are some things I wanted to say to you, that's all."

Draco instantly was wary. "Like what?"

"You didn't see Hermione immediately after the war, did you?"

Draco started to say, "Don't ask stupid questions," but he nodded instead.

"Well, she looked like crap," said Potter bluntly.

"Nice description," Draco said after a moment.

"Not nice, just accurate. She looked like she'd been through hell and back. She was filthy, her clothes were ragged, she was horribly thin and her skin almost seemed translucent. The woman with her – Elvira – didn't look any better."

Draco said nothing.

"Your fault, Malfoy."

"If you asked me here just for this, you've wasted your time," said Draco, beginning to stand up.

"Stop being dramatic," Potter said. "There's much more I have to say. My point is, Hermione suffered a lot during the war. I'm sure you can appreciate that all of us want to see you make up for it."

Draco was expressionless.

"She'd been living in a cellar under the Three Broomsticks, scavenging at night for whatever she could after Madam Rosmerta was taken. She couldn't bear to leave the country and she was too well-known to pretend to be a poor relative of someone or the other. She didn't know how to find us. It was just her and Elvira, and soon, one more."

"Imagine our shock when she turned up, filthy, starving, a blond-haired, grey-eyed baby on her hip. She nearly collapsed into our arms." Potter's smile was grim. "After she'd eaten, Ron asked her how she ended up as your babysitter. The answer we got wasn't exactly what we expected."

"I won't bother to go through all the details. We were furious, but she insisted that you had saved her. She's strong, is Hermione." Now his smile was genuine, reminiscent. "I asked her how she had managed to give birth in a cellar without any medical facilities, and she only shrugged and said, 'Just push.' That's what she went through, Malfoy. So here's the obligatory threat – be nice to her, or we'll all come after you. And now that's over, we can all be grown-ups again."

Draco tried to return his smile, but his facial muscles couldn't quite pull it off. He could imagine Hermione as Potter described her, and that hardly made him want to smile.

* * *

Hermione was sitting on the sofa in her house when Draco came by. She was staring down at a letter she held in her hands and didn't notice him at first.

"Hermione?"

She looked up blankly for a moment, and he saw that her eyes were overbright. She blinked and turned away, quickly refolding the letter. "You're early," she said, determinedly bright. "That's good, though. I really can't decide which design I want."

"What's in the letter?" Draco said, refusing to be sidetracked.

"Nothing," she said.

"If it's making you cry, I think I ought to know about it."

"Nothing. I've been cutting onions."

"You're a terrible liar, did you know that?"

"Draco, it's really nothing, all right? I'm fine."

"Hermione-"

"Come and help me choose one," she said as she caught his hand and pulled him over to sit next to her. "Do you prefer blue or green?"

Draco let the subject drop, but when he found the letter later after Hermione had gone out to get something, he opened it.

_Hermione,_

_We're sorry. We won't be able to attend your wedding._

_The Weasleys_

* * *

The next day, he overheard Hermione talking with Lavender.

"I just – I wish that they would come. It would mean so much to me."

"I know," said Lavender sympathetically. "Still, you can't expect them to forget about it so easily."

"I don't. I just want them to come for the wedding, that's all. I'm not asking them to…to welcome him with open arms. I – it's so hard. Are they trying to force me to choose between them or him?" Her words held an uncharacteristic tinge of bitterness.

"They're not like that, Hermione. They just can't accept that you're actually marrying him."

"Can't they just be happy for me? Do I really mean so little to them?"

"That's not the point – how would you feel if someone tortured and killed Halen?"

There was silence for a moment.

"You understand now, don't you? It's not easy at all. The way they accepted Halen – it's a credit to them. It took Ron a long time. I've never told you this, but he told me that every now and then, he'd look at Halen and see Malfoy. It was a constant reminder to him. It couldn't have been any easier for his parents."

"I know," said Hermione, and he could tell that she was crying.

"It's not like they're never going to talk to you again," Lavender said soothingly. "Just give them a bit of time."

"They'll never come around to our house, though; they'll never invite me over because Draco might come too; there'll always be that restraint between us…and I used to feel a part of their family…"

"It won't be that bad," said Lavender, but her words lacked conviction.

"I can't even tell Draco, because I don't want him to feel bad over this. He's already carrying so much guilt. Don't tell him, all right?"

He heard a sigh. "Yeah, I know. Hermione, don't cry. It's not as bad as that…"

Silently, he turned and left the house.

* * *

He'd been struggling with it over the years, but he never had enough courage and he put it off time and again, telling himself that it would be too painful for them, that they would much rather be spared the sight of him. It was far too easy to leave it be. But Hermione added a new motivation. He should have done it a long time ago – for Hermione's sake, he would face up to his past.

* * *

The doorbell rang.

"George, get the door, would you?"

"Got it!" yelled George. He opened the door, only to find the person he least expected or wanted to see on the doorstep.

His face immediately darkened. "You're not welcome," he said coldly. He began to slam the door close, but Malfoy's foot was suddenly there, preventing him from doing so. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I need to talk." Malfoy wasn't looking at him.

George sneered. "Like anybody here cares. Get lost."

"Who's that?" called Molly Weasley's voice in the background.

"Nobody," George yelled back. "Don't make things difficult for anyone," he hissed to Malfoy. "I don't want my mum to have to look at you, especially today. You have brilliant timing, did you know that? Coming on the day we remember his death. Now take your stinking carcass off our property before I blast you out."

"I'm not here to make trouble," said Malfoy softly, but George could hear the determination in his voice. "There are some things I need to say."

"In case you didn't catch it the first time around, nobody gives a damn."

"You can't be talking to nobody, George! Invite whoever it is in, please. Don't keep them standing outside. I'll be there in a moment!"

"It's nobody!" George bellowed back. "There's no need for you to come out."

"Nonsense," said Mrs Weasley briskly, emerging from the kitchen. "Who is it – oh." Her voice was suddenly as cold as her son's.

"I told you it was nobody," said George, shoving the door viciously against Malfoy's foot. It had to have hurt, but Malfoy gave no sign that he had felt any pain.

"Mrs Weasley," he said in a low voice. "I need to tell you-"

"Shut the door, George," she said, beginning to turn away.

"_Please_." The word sounded like it had slipped out involuntarily.

That single word stopped her. Slowly, she turned back. Finally, he had raised his eyes to meet hers, and she was unprepared for the hint of desperation she saw in them. Suddenly, he seemed so young and she remembered that he was the same age as her youngest son, that he had only been a teenager when he had been plunged into a world of pain and fear.

"It's about your son," he said, every word sounding forced. "Fred Weasley. There's something you don't know-"

George exploded, "Don't even _speak_ his name, you b-"

"Enough," said Mrs Weasley. She stared at Malfoy, and he dropped his gaze.

"Step aside, George," she said finally.

"Mum, are you crazy?"

"Step aside." Without waiting to see if he would do as she said, she walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa, her back very straight. Her husband came in, blinking.

"What's the matter, Molly?" he said tiredly. "What's got George riled up?"

" 'What' is the correct word," said George harshly as he stepped in, followed by Malfoy.

"What's he doing here?" said Mr Weasley. "Molly, are you mad?"

"He said there's something we ought to know. About Fred." She didn't look at anyone as she spoke.

The rest of the Weasleys flooded into the room.

"What the hell-"

"Who let that git in?"

"Mum, what's going on?"

"Dad?"

"Be quiet," said Mrs Weasley without raising her voice. They fell silent, but undisguised animosity was on every face. Only Ginny was expressionless.

Malfoy walked stiffly into the centre of the room and said, "There are some things that you don't know about how – he died. You were told that he'd broken under torture, and that he'd given out information that led to the raid on Shell Cottage and Lupin's death. And after his death, his body had been mutilated, dismembered, and strewn over the country."

Tears rolled down Mrs Weasley's face, but she didn't take her eyes off him.

"All that was a lie," he said, the words coming quickly, more easily now. "Right till the very end, he gave us – gave them nothing, refused to tell us where Potter was, refused to tell us what he was doing, what he was planning. He wouldn't even tell us – them – where Potter used to hide out. He didn't give us a single thing."

George's knuckles were white.

"His body was untouched. They didn't care what happened to it. As soon as I could, I got him away and I buried him." Finally, he looked up and met their eyes. "I did what I could. Maybe I could have done more, I don't know, but I tried. Believe me."

"Believe you?" George's voice was hoarse. "Believe _you_?"

"I swear by...by everything I hold dear, that I've said nothing but the truth."

Suddenly, Mr Weasley pointed his wand directly at Malfoy and cried, "_Memoria restituo!"_

_

* * *

_

_And they were in a dank dark room, a red-headed man writhing on the floor, his mouth open in a soundless scream. Malfoy lifted his wand and Fred fell back, gasping for breath._

"_Give up, Weasley," said Malfoy, sounding bored. "You know you'll tell us everything we want to know eventually. Save yourself the pain."_

_Fred looked up. His eyes were wet, but they were dark with hatred. "Save your breath, Malfoy. You might as well kill me now. I'll never betray the Order."_

"_Plenty of people have said that before," Malfoy replied. "And yet we've killed so many members of your precious Order – ever wondered why?"_

_Fred said something very rude and creative._

_Malfoy raised his wand and Fred arched off the floor._

_

* * *

_

_Everything blurred and they were in another room full of Death Eaters. Most were men, but there were a few women there too. The door opened and Hermione was thrust in through the door, her eyes wide in fear._

_Malfoy turned to a tall dark-haired man. "I want her," he said._

"Don't."

_He walked to the table and bent to whisper. Hermione stared up at him, her expression a mixture of fear, horror, disgust, and pleading. Then as he pulled her robes aside and stepped forward, she screamed._

"No. No…"

* * *

"_Father…let's leave."_

_Lucius Malfoy whirled on his son. "Leave? Don't be a fool, Draco. There is no leaving. You saw what happened to Karkaroff."_

"_I can't go on." Malfoy suddenly dropped his head into his hands. "We can disappear. Tomorrow night."_

"_No."_

"_Yes. I'll arrange everything. Father, you can't still believe in what the Dark Lord stands for."_

"_It's not a question of belief. There is no leaving. He will kill us. All of us. And your aunt?" Lucius laughed harshly. "She'll track us down herself to redeem the Black family name."_

_Malfoy raised his head, looking haggard and older than his years._

"_Draco, you _must_ remain loyal. We are safe only because of _you_. Do you understand?"_

_It was a moment before Malfoy said yes._

_

* * *

_

"_The body?" said Bellatrix, her eyes glowing savagely._

"_What about it?" said Malfoy._

"_Something should be done with it. The blood-traitor's family is well known. The body should be displayed somewhere. Somewhere tasteful, like Hogwarts. An object lesson for all the little children." A smile of glee stretched her mouth._

"_If you recall, Snape is there, along with the Carrows, among others. I could be wrong, but I doubt they enjoy the smell of putrefaction throughout the Great Hall."_

_Bellatrix's face darkened, and she snapped, "Don't take that tone with me, Draco. You may be in favour with the Dark Lord, but you are not secure. Remember that."_

"_I remember that no one is secure."_

"_Why so concerned for Snape's welfare?" Her eyes narrowed. "Or is it for the sake of this Weasley? Do you feel sorry for him, my precious nephew? He was only a few years older, wasn't he?"_

"_Feel sorry for a corpse?" He kicked the still warm body casually. "Hardly. I would remind you that I just tortured and killed him. I wouldn't make such wild accusations, Bellatrix. Your recent failure has not endeared you to our master."_

_Twin spots of anger burned in Bellatrix's cheeks, but she said nothing._

"_I will dispose of the body myself," he said coolly. "Find your own victim, my dear aunt."_

_

* * *

_

_A tall blond man stood in the shadows, listening to soft sobs that drifted out into the hallway, fading into ragged breathing. When there was finally silence, he hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open noiselessly._

_Hermione was curled up on the bed, her face tearstained, her eyes swollen. In sleep, her arms were protectively wrapped around her legs and as Malfoy watched, she shuddered and whimpered._

_Malfoy took a step towards the bed, then stopped._

"_I shouldn't be here," he said in a voice almost too low to be heard. "I only wanted to…"_

"_Granger, don't you see? The only way I can protect you is to hurt you. I'm not what you want, but I'm what you have; what you need to be safe. And to keep you safe, I have to walk away."_

_He gazed at her, a puddle of moonlight shining softly on her face, and in his eyes there was a terrible yearning, a terrible grief, a terrible despair. Taking another step towards her, he lifted a hand, as though to smooth back her hair._

"_Hermione," he whispered, and then he slipped out of her room and walked away, never once looking back._

_

* * *

_

"_Please," said Tonks hoarsely. "Please don't do this. Draco, please."_

"_Why, cousin?" said Malfoy coldly._

"_Please…" she whispered, tears running down her face. "Please…"_

"_Do hurry up," he said. "The Dark Lord is impatient."_

_Tonks' gaze shifted to Voldemort, then back again. "Draco, please," she said hopelessly. "Help me."_

"_Don't be a fool, _Tonks,_" he replied. "The Dark Lord waits."_

_She fell to her knees. "Anything else! Please, Draco, anything else…"_

"Crucio!"_ A man screamed and Tonks lunged at Malfoy, but was slammed back to the floor by Bellatrix._

"_NO! NO! STOP!"_

"_Stupid girl," hissed Bellatrix, wrenching Tonks' arm behind her back and twisting it painfully. "You're lucky that the Dark Lord didn't put me in charge. I would have killed you slowly for humiliating the Blacks by marrying a werewolf."_

_Malfoy lifted his wand, and Lupin curled up in a ball, his shaking hands over his head._

"_What do you want to know?" said Tonks helplessly._

"_It's not worth it, Dora," said Lupin weakly. "Don't…"_

"_You've already told us everything we want to know," said Malfoy. "As you well know. What we want from you is not information, but action." He smiled lazily. "Or entertainment, if you prefer."_

"No…not this…"

_Her face contorted. "I…no, take me instead, please leave him alone-"_

_Lupin howled in agony._

"_No, stop! I'll do it! I'LL DO IT!"_

_Tears streamed down her face as she turned to an ashen-faced Oliver Wood. "I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. _"Cru-Crucio!"

* * *

_The scene dissolved, and they were just outside Hogsmeade. Behind the village, Hogwarts rose up, a dark outline in the sky, the Dark Mark hovering over it._

_With a shovel, Malfoy dug a grave at the foot of a tree. Now that there was no one around, his eyes looked dead, lost. When he was done, he gently laid Fred into the earth and stood looking down at him, and reached down to close his eyes._

"_This is near the place you were happy in, I think," he said softly to the dead man, crouching down next to the shallow grave. "Rest in peace."_

_For a moment, he pressed his knuckles against his eyes, and when he took his hand away, his eyes were no longer emotionless._

"_I know you can't hear me," Malfoy said huskily. "But I'm sorry. Merlin, I'm sorry, Weasley. I wish I'd never-" He didn't finish the sentence._

_Malfoy shovelled the soil back over the grave. On the tree, an inscription appeared as he pointed his wand at it._

Fred Weasley. He was true to the very end.

_His mouth twisted in a bitter parody of a smile. Then he Disapparated._

_

* * *

_

_Men were laughing uproariously around Malfoy, drinking freely and calling for Malfoy to summon his new slave. The door opened and Hermione entered to the sound of catcalls, her eyes downcast._

_Malfoy stood and shoved her roughly so she was bent over the table. She gripped the tablecloth with shaking hands, crying out in pain as he forced himself into her. He grabbed her hair, yanking it back almost viciously and she screamed as tears of pain slipped from beneath her eyelids. The watching men cheered._

"No – not this…"

* * *

_Fred lay limp on the floor, his shuddering breaths filling the room._

"_Where is Potter?"_

_His hair was matted with sweat, and he only shook his head weakly._

_Malfoy leant forward slightly. "Where is he, Weasley?"_

_Fred spoke in a whisper. "I almost feel sorry for you."_

_Malfoy frowned. "What?"_

"_You think you're winning? Even if your precious Voldemort wins, you'll never be safe. You'll always be watching your back, afraid that someone will backstab you, afraid that you'll make a misstep and fail, and then it'll be your turn to scream." Fred's lips curled in a savage smile. "You'll never be safe, Malfoy. If you weren't such a bastard, I'd feel sorry for you."_

_Malfoy's lips tightened and Fred howled in agony again._

* * *

The images flashed faster and faster. Face after face appeared for a moment before fading away again, mouths open in terrible screams, pleading on their knees, despairing eyes turned upwards, arms outstretched, begging for mercy, blood and tears and tears and blood flowing freely, women shrieking for death, Malfoy raising his wand again and again, bodies abruptly becoming still, a pile of corpses tossed carelessly against a wall, arms sprawled out legs twisted huge wolves ripping the throats out eyes staring blankly uncaring unknowing the pile growing bigger and bigger familiar faces hideously mutilated…

"No – stop! STOP!"

A wall came down and suddenly they were flung out of Malfoy's memories and back into their living room. Ginny was pale. Mrs Weasley's face was wet with tears. George gripped the sofa tightly.

And Malfoy was on his knees, his face buried in his shaking hands, his voice almost unrecognisable.

"I couldn't save him – like I couldn't save her – couldn't save them – all I could do was watch them die – help them die…"

Nobody said anything, only looked at the tall, self-possessed, proud man who was crouched down on their faded living room carpet.

It was minutes before Malfoy raised his head and stood up. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry."

The Weasleys said nothing as he left the house.

* * *

Hermione was cooking dinner when she heard Draco enter the house. She felt her mouth curl up in a smile, unbidden. Even after two months, a warm feeling still spread over her when Draco returned to her.

He wasn't perfect, far from it. He was far too reserved and too scarred by all that he had done during the war. Then again, she wasn't perfect either. But he had loved her, loved her still, and she too had fallen in love with the man who had let his own soul die, piece by piece, to protect his family and to save the lives of strangers.

Yet it was still difficult for him to speak about his feelings, even to her. Such things did not come naturally to him; he still struggled to express his love for his son, even when faced with Halen's wide smile and innocent gaze.

So she was very surprised when he walked straight into the kitchen and pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him.

"Draco?" she said uncertainly, her hands rubbing his back soothingly. "Are you all right?"

"Thank you for surviving," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you for Halen."

Hermione tried to laugh. "I didn't do that for you," she said teasingly.

But when he didn't say anything, she held him like she did their son, until his body no longer trembled and his eyes were dry.

And three weeks later, while none of them shook hands with the bridegroom, there were many red-headed people at a wedding, and a few actually smiled when the minister said, "You may now kiss the bride."

* * *

**Redemption, yeah? I've written an epilogue a bazillion years ago, but not quite satisfied with it. Still, I reckon it's a nice epilogue myself. So there'll probably be one more chapter to go.**


	12. Epilogue

**A/N: Wrote this ages and ages ago, decided I wanted a complete rewrite but changed my mind. Final chapter, enjoy.**

**PS: You get to find out where Halen's name came from. :)**

* * *

_**Three years later…**_

"Shouldn't you be in bed? Resting?"

"Halen, tell your father to stop coddling me."

Draco shook his head. "You can barely waddle down the hallway and you want to come downstairs to make yourself some weird concoction?"

Hermione shot daggers at him. Halen was grinning. "Dad, I really think you'd better knock it off."

"Halen, remind your father that if he doesn't leave me alone, he's going to find himself missing a few appendages," said Hermione sourly.

"I'll be in the living room," said Halen, still grinning. "I'm not allowed to use magic here yet, not even to protect my father."

He left, and Draco crossed the kitchen to reach Hermione. She was munching a sandwich, determinedly ignoring him. He wrapped an arm around her, and took it as a good sign that she didn't throw it off. She had been amazingly grumpy for the past few months, and the larger she got the grumpier she got. Sometimes, she broke into tears for no reason at all while at others, she broke something into the traditional million pieces. On occasion, the 'something' was extended into trashing an entire room. Draco had set aside a room mainly filled with assorted rubber ducks for her when she was in one of those moods.

"Relax, love," he said soothingly. "I'm just worried about you and the baby, that's all."

She grunted.

Draco slid his hand down to rest on her huge belly. "It's kicking again," he marvelled.

"Hah! Like I wouldn't know," she groused. "You'd better appreciate what I'm going through, mister."

He kissed her on her cheek. "Of course I do."

Hermione sighed. "I just feel so fat and helpless – I'd forgotten how pregnancy was like. And look at this!" She held out her arm and poked it. "It _jiggles_."

"How terrible," said Draco, appropriately outraged. "I'll curse the abomination off, then, shall I?"

"Don't you _dare_!"

He laughed. "I love you, Hermione. Jiggly parts and all."

Hermione sighed again. "I know." She leant back against him and he nuzzled her neck. "I think we need to talk to Halen," she murmured.

"Halen? Why, what's the matter?"

"I don't know, just that… well, he's been an only child for so long, he might feel insecure about suddenly having another child in the family. Ginny suggested we have a heart-to-heart with him."

"I see," said Draco slowly. "I hadn't thought of it. Sibling rivalry and all that."

"Wouldn't have thought you knew anything about sibling rivalry, seeing as you're an only child," remarked Hermione.

"You're a fine one to talk."

She gifted him with the obligatory evil eye.

Later, they both walked out to the living room – empty of any living creature. Hermione heaved a sigh. "He's playing Quidditch outside again, isn't he?"

"Practising," Draco corrected. "You can't play Quidditch by yourself. I thought even you would know that."

Dignity demanded that she ignore his last comment. "Why does he keep _practising _Quidditch all the time? Oh, I'd forgotten Lily was coming over," she said as she caught a glimpse through a window of a flash of red hair zooming through the air. "She's here, he ought to do something that she enjoys."

"She enjoys flying, doesn't she?"

"But it seems like that's all he does, especially when she's around."

"Uh huh."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. Draco closed it gently with his forefinger. "She's going to be quite a looker, you know," he said casually.

"I never thought of _that_… they're so _young_, for goodness' sake…"

"It's a male thing, showing off in front of girls," Draco said seriously. "You wouldn't understand."

Hermione shook her head a bit helplessly. "Call him in, won't you? We might as well talk now. Tell Lily to hang around outside for a bit."

Halen came in a few minutes later, cheeks pink with exertion. "Something wrong?"

"Sit down, sweetie," Hermione said.

Halen sat down on the sofa from across his parents, looking wary. "Did I do something?"

"No, not at all," answered his father.

"You know that we love you, don't you?" said Hermione.

"Uh-huh," said Halen, one eyebrow raised.

"And there's no need for you to feel that we'll love you less after the baby's born," continued Draco.

Halen glanced between them and laughed.

"What's so funny?" Draco asked.

"You are," answered Halen. "I'm fine with the baby, Dad. Really. You don't have to worry that I'll, I don't know, smother it or something."

"You sure?" asked Hermione, looking sceptical. "I don't want you repressing your feelings. It's not healthy. It's perfectly okay to feel jealous over the baby, you know."

Halen adopted a mournful look. "Actually, now that you mention it…"

"Yes?" said Hermione encouragingly.

"I might be feeling a little depressed, now that I won't be getting as much attention."

For some reason, there was something gleaming in Halen's eye that made Draco uneasy.

"Oh, sweetie, like we said, there's absolutely no need for you to feel threatened – "

"And," said Halen, interrupting his mother, now unable to hide a grin, "I might need something to help me feel better."

"And that something would be?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"I heard that there's a new Nimbus out last month," said Halen casually. "I think it would help me feel a lot better."

Draco groaned.

"It might be expensive, but that would really show that you love me enough to spend that much Galleons on me, don't you think?"

"You smart, cheeky little…"

"Sly and manipulative, I was thinking," said Hermione.

They both turned to each other and said simultaneously, "He's _your _son."

Halen laughed and laughed.

* * *

Sometime after midnight, Hermione's screams had stopped. Ron, Harry and Halen were waiting in the corridor outside the room with bated breath. A baby's wail split the air and they relaxed.

A few minutes later, Draco came out, looking paler than usual. Halen ran towards him. "Dad! How's Mum? How's the baby? Is it a girl or a boy?"

"Fine, fine, girl," said Draco a trifle shakily.

"You're the one that's not fine, I see," said Harry, grinning. "I know exactly what you need." He pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky and conjured up three glasses. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Listen, Dad, can I go in now?" asked Halen impatiently. "Can I?"

"Go ahead. Don't yell or anything, your mother's worn out," said Draco.

"Yeah, I know," called Halen over his shoulder, already at the door. As the door swung shut behind him, another lusty wail drifted through the air.

"Good, strong lungs," commented Ron, wincing slightly.

"Yeah. Just like Hermione," said Draco, taking a gulp. "Merlin, I never actually realised how awful giving birth is." He looked down at his hand. Hermione's fingermarks were all over it, and it was obvious that there would be some bruises there soon.

"No kidding," Ron said sympathetically. "You should have heard Lavender. She was threatening to hex certain parts off me, parts that I'd really prefer to remain attached. Thankfully, she got over that by the time we had Hugo."

"Yeah, well…" Draco blew out a breath. "I just never realised how bloody giving birth is."

Harry made some sort of indistinct sympathetic noise.

"How awful it is," continued Draco. "How painful it is."

"Don't worry. Hermione will enlighten you soon enough, if Lavender's anything to go by."

Draco stared at the amber liquid in his glass, swirling it absentmindedly. "And she had to go through all of that by herself," he said, almost to himself. "She did go through it by herself."

Both Harry and Ron knew that he was not talking about the events of the past day.

"She had Elvira with her, remember," Harry said lightly.

"Yeah," said Draco moodily.

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "It's over already, no point stressing about it. Let the past remain in the past."

"Be extra nice to her to make up for it," suggested Ron.

"You take care of your wife, Weasley, and I'll take care of mine," Draco said, but without heat.

"That's the spirit," said Ron. "Are we allowed in now?"

Draco shook his head slightly, clearing his thoughts. "Yeah, I suppose." A slow smile spread across his face. "Come and see my daughter."

The other two followed him into the room to see Ginny taking a well-wrapped bundle from Halen. "There you go, sweetie," she said, smiling at the baby. "You're going to your mum now."

Hermione was pale and sweaty, but she smiled as the baby was placed carefully into her arms. "Who's my darling?" she murmured. "Who's my gorgeous little girl?"

The baby had a head of dark hair. As everyone automatically bent towards her, she opened her eyes – grey eyes – and stared at them solemnly. Then she opened her mouth wide. Everyone instinctively tensed, but she only yawned and closed her eyes again.

"Isn't she sweet?" said Draco proudly.

"I think she looks like you, Hermione, even if she has Draco's eyes," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Bit early to tell, though."

"She's tiny," said Halen, wrinkling his nose. "Like _tiny_. She's smaller than Crookshanks, even. How long before I can teach her how to play Quidditch?"

The adults laughed.

"What are you going to name her?" asked Ginny.

"We hadn't exactly decided on a name yet," said Hermione. "If she had been a boy, Draco would have pushed for her to be named Scorpius."

"And I told Dad that that was just plain weird," interjected Halen.

"It's traditional," Draco said defensively.

"But like I said, we hadn't decided on a girl's name yet," continued Hermione.

"You mean we hadn't _agreed_ on a girl's name yet," Draco corrected.

"Yeah, whatever," said Hermione. "I want a lovely, perfect name for a lovely, perfect girl."

"How about Daisy?" suggested Ron.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

"Hey, we have Rose, Lily, even Narcissa, come to that," said Ron. "And Harry's aunt is named Petunia, isn't that right, Harry?"

"Yeah, but…"

"I," said Hermione, "am raising a family, Ronald. Not planting a garden."

"Just a suggestion," said Ron, shrugging.

After some time, the others left, leaving Draco, Hermione and Halen alone with the new addition to their family.

"Really, what are we going to name the baby?" asked Halen, as Draco gingerly deposited the baby into Hermione's arms.

"I still can't decide," said Hermione. "But we have a week, I think, before we have to give her a name."

"If we still can't agree on one by then, I'm naming her Dramione," said Draco warningly.

"Don't you dare!" gasped Hermione, actually placing a protective arm over the peacefully sleeping little baby girl. "How can you even _think_ of inflicting such a horrendous name on our innocent little girl?"

"Halen, what do you think?" demanded Draco. "Are you going to let your mum name your sister Elizabeth Angelica Hermione Alecia Gloria something or the other?"

Halen laughed.

"I said _one _of those names, Draco, not the whole lot," Hermione said crossly. "And I certainly didn't suggest Hermione."

"Well, are you?"

"No way. Sorry, Mum, I'm with Dad on this one. And _Dramione_ is as bad as Scorpius."

"Then what are we going to name her?" asked Hermione in exasperation.

"Something Norwegian," suggested Draco, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Hermione would have thrown a pillow at him, but she was still exhausted. "Draco Malfoy, you know perfectly well why I gave Halen a Norwegian name. I told you I wanted to name him after you, but I didn't want others to know that. It took me ages to find the name, I'll have you know."

"We know, Mum," said Halen patiently. "You've only told us like thirty-five times already."

"Any other suggestions – _sensible_ suggestions?" asked Hermione pointedly.

There was a silence. Then, "How about Melody?"

Draco and Hermione glanced at Halen, then turned to each other. "Melody," repeated Draco slowly.

"Melody," said Hermione thoughtfully. "My beautiful Melody."

The sun was just beginning to rise. The first rays of the dawn shone in through the window and cast a rosy glow on the pale mother cradling her newborn daughter, and the man and boy grouped around them.

"Melody," said Draco again. "Melody."

"Your big brother named you, Melody," cooed Hermione. "Isn't he clever?"

"Good one, son," said Draco, ruffling Halen's hair. "Pure genius."

Halen fairly glowed with delight.

"Does this mean you'll buy me the new Nimbus?" he asked.

* * *

**The end.**


End file.
